


Breaking Magnificence

by TheGiftofAslan



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 66,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiftofAslan/pseuds/TheGiftofAslan
Summary: After being ambushed and captured by the White Witch's soldiers, Peter is brought to the Witch's castle and is used to resurrect her. Now, trapped as her prisoner, Peter will have to do all he can to survive against the Witch's cruel torment





	1. The White Witch

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this story! I have already written the entire story and will be posting several chapters every few days. This story was written from a writing prompt, and I would like to give a shoutout and a thank you to my prompt giver for this story! **
> 
> **This story is darker than my previous work, _Enemies Surround Us_, and I will be posting warnings on chapters that require them. This story contain some graphic violence and intense scenes.**
> 
> **Thank you for reading! **

They had been ambushed, and Peter was now the only one left alive.

He and his ten guards had been horribly outnumbered, and every single soldier of his had died protecting him. It had made no difference. Despite all of their efforts, Peter's included, the White Witch's soldiers had captured Peter within his own kingdom.

It was supposed to be only a minor routine check and a visit to Beaver's dam, and he would be home. However, that entire plan had failed miserably. As he twisted and pulled on the hands that held him, one of the minotaurs in front of them turned around and hit him in the face. The impact sent Peter's exhausted head whirling. They continued on their march when Peter stopped squirming as much.

Once his vision was not as fuzzy and his brain could properly function to an extent, he racked his brain for a way out. He could not fight them. As he counted, there were about twenty of them and only one of him. Besides, they had taken Rhindon away from him.

All of his thoughts of escaping evaporated when they came out into the clearing at the edge of the forest. He had been on this same ridge once before, only five years ago, when he, Susan, Lucy, and Mr. Beaver had watched Edmund walk into the White Witch's castle for the first time.

Now being in front of the castle again, it only made him want to run as fast as he could away from there. He could not be taken in there; he panicked. He would have screamed if it had not been for the cloth tied around his mouth to prevent such noise. His fighting to break free only intensified until the one centaur hoisted Peter right over his shoulder.

Peter squirmed in his arms, tugging on the rope that tied his wrists together. The centaur just huffed out a warning to him to stop but did not actually seem disturbed by Peter's attempts to wiggle out of his arms. All Peter could do was watch as they went further and further into the courtyard and passed the pillars. Peter's breathing only increased as they went through the doors, as did his attempts to get away.

He hated not being able to see where they were heading. He could not even brace himself for what was to come. He did not even know what the castle looked like on the inside before either. Edmund had described it, but as Peter was forced to go further into the castle, he did not think the castle he was seeing now was anything like when the White Witch was there.

The castle was practically all melted and rundown. There was dirt and mold throughout the walls. It was not enchanting or terrifying. It was just an old castle now.

While they ventured further in, Peter felt a chill nip the back of his neck. It sent a shiver down his back. Oddly enough, it almost felt eerily familiar. It made his stomach drop despite him not being able to place where familiarity was from. He had dismissed it to just being in Witch's palace.

Once the centaur shrugged him off his shoulder like a discarded coat and dropped with just as much care, Peter realized exactly where the coldness had come from. It took him longer than he would have liked to acquaint himself to his surroundings. The floor was iced here, only making landing on it all the more painful. The impact on the ground had jostled his sore bones, and with his hands tied behind his back, he had no means to brace for impact.

He landed hard on his shoulder and his hip. Landing on his side and facing where they had come from, he did not know there was anyone else in the room until a voice echoed against the walls.

"Peter," all of Peter froze. He knew that voice. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

His heart raced; panic pricked at his spine threatening to overtake all of him. He was afraid to know. Regardless, he needed to see the truth.

With a quick rollover, he saw the White Witch.

Panic overtook him, as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the chill touch his bones, much like it had all those years ago when he saw her across the battlefield.

_No, this cannot be real_. But he knew it was. She was here.

"Look how much you have grown."

A chill rippled down his back. He was shaking. All the same, he took a steadying breath and forced himself to look at her. She was half-formed; her hand outstretched from a sheet of ice that went from the floor to the ceiling. She wore a gloating smile, as she stretched her hand to him.

"Come here, and we shall have the reunion you deserve," her voice would have been nearly inviting if it were not laced with a threat.

As one of the satyrs cut the ropes tying his wrists together, the minotaurs came over, yanking him to his feet. They held him between their arms. He pulled to get away from them, as they forced him to go towards the White Witch.

A hag came in front of them, drawing a shimmering circle only a few feet away from the White Witch. The hag uttered what sounded like some sort of enchantment.

Once the hag had finished, the minotaurs dragged him into the circle the hag had drawn for them. The minotaur to his left forced Peter's arm to be outstretched. The hag limped over to him, and with a cruel smile, she ran her knife across his palm, slicing it easily. Peter only could barely wince before the minotaurs brought him closer to the White Witch.

Fear pounded through his veins as she leaned closer to him.

No. He did not want to touch her. He did not want to be anywhere near her. He knew what she was like. He needed to get away.

Yet the closer he got to her, the more his limbs started to move like they were trudging through sand. There was a weight to them. It was not long before they stopped trying to break free all together.

Her fingers brushed against his, and all he wanted to do was scream, but he could not manage to do that. He seemed only trapped in this experience with no control to prevent it.

Without a warning, she took his hand. At first, nothing happened. Then she took her first step out of ice. With every movement she made towards him, he felt his body grow heavier. All the energy was draining out of him with ease.

He wanted to yank his hand away, but as she took the necessary steps to be in front of him, his vision swirled.

He nearly passed out right there before she gripped his cheeks between her fingers. His eyes snapped open; he sluggishly tried to push her away from him, but her grip held true.

Forcing him to look her in the eye before he lost consciousness, she promised, "After I am finished with you, you are going to wish I killed you in Beruna."


	2. Rules of Engagement

Iced water splashed all across Peter, startling him awake. The temperature took his breath away, making him gasp for air. Immediately, a chill wrapped around his body, and he began to shiver.

He uncomfortably noticed that he was blindfolded, and a cloth was tied between his teeth. He shifted and felt that his wrists were once again tied behind his back. He was also lying on his side on a cold surface, which he could only presume was ice.

Quickly, he did an assessment of his state as Oreius had taught him: his head hurt, his limbs felt weak and worn, and now, he was freezing. But he could still move. He could fight if he could get his hands free.

"The prisoner is awake."

_Great_, Peter thought to himself. He did not like the idea he could not see what was coming towards him or what anyone could do to him. He could not anticipate anything. He hated how stuck he was.

Without a warning, he felt hands grab a hold of him, forcing him into the air. He flailed his legs, trying to kick those he could not see or touch the ground with his feet. Neither he was successful at.

Instead, he was carried out of wherever he was being kept, despite his attempts at a protest. Hauled in the air until he was dropped once more, none too kindly. This time, when he landed, he felt like he was sitting on a chair.

From there, small hands cut away the rope holding his wrists together. Before he could do much more than pull his arms to his front, hands and claws latched themselves onto his wrists and slammed them down on the arms of the chair. He yelled in surprise, but all it came out as was a muffled mess.

He tried to retrieve his wrists. Before he was able to do anything further, he felt icy metal scorch his wrists, and with finality, a large clunk sealed the chains to them.

When the claws and hands released his arms and hands, the chains left a weight to his wrists. The claws were quick to chain his ankles to the legs of the chair as well, no matter his flailing attempts.

He tested his restraints, knowing well before he did that they would be too strong for him to break them. He would be lying if he did not admit that his breathing heightened and a shudder escaped him long before he could stop it.

"Have you ever been tortured before?" Jadis's voice reached his ears, making him jump. Despite hearing her voice, he could not locate where she ought to be in the room from the sound. There was a delight in her tone, as she concluded, "No? This is perfect then. I wanted to be the first."

_Oh, Aslan, please help me._

The first thing he felt was claws ruffling around with the back of his head. He yelped at the touch, only to find that the claws had untied his blindfold, allowing him to see once more. Squinting from the sharp light contrast, Peter had to blink several times before he could see properly in front of him.

Peter counted nine creatures that loomed in the room. Some held knives and others carried hammers. He had to look away from them before he gave their intention too much thought.

_This cannot be happening_, he panicked. But as he saw the White Witch sitting comfortably on her throne, Peter knew it was all too real.

The pain still engulfed his hand, and his entire body felt drained. Whatever dark magic she used to come back had taken far too much energy out of him.

With a forceful yank, the satyr pulled the tied cloth out of Peter's mouth, allowing it to fall down to his neck.

Nevertheless, his focus was on Jadis. As much as he hated the situation he was in, he could not change it at the moment.

_My family will notice I am missing_, he reassured himself. They will come get me; I am certain. For now, he was absolutely certain of that. He just prayed he had the strength to endure until then.

Jadis held onto her stone knife in one hand, only briefly examining it before she started to speak: "You have the power to make this much more bearable for yourself. Let me tell you how I conduct myself, Son of Adam," she leaned back in her throne. "Know that I shall never lie to you. I swear it; you will only hear the truth from me."

Peter doubted that very much but decided against testing that declaration for the time being. He did not have much say in the matter either.

How long did she think she could hold him captive without his siblings noticing? The gleam about her and that wicked grin made him think she thought she had all the time in the world. He pushed the thought aside, afraid to consider what magic she had to make that possible. He needed to remain as calm as possible and panicking about potential possibilities would not help him.

"Secondly, I do very much hate crying, especially the cries of a human. Make too much noise and you will only cause yourself more pain," she warned. She absentmindedly examined her hand, adding words as if they held no consequence. "I do hope you are more like Edmund in that regard. At least, he was quiet while taking a lashing."

Her words shook him, and he could not help when he had to look away from her. Edmund had told him about her using a whip on him. He had too many scars as proof of it.

Peter could still remember the first time he had seen the scars. He had to sit down and nearly cried right there. Seeing the evidence of the Witch's maltreatment of his brother was far too much to bear.

"Did that bother you?" She asked as if she cared.

Her lips twitched almost to a smirk but it was not quite there yet.

"Lastly, my dear, if you attempt any escape, any resistance, you will suffer terribly for it." Her finger barely twitched, and a sharp pain stabbed Peter's chest. He startled at the action, and she just relished in her demonstration. "Now that we have established the rules, do you have any questions?"

At first, he thought she might be joking, but she waited. He thought of being silent to spite her. Yet, a question did find its way to his mouth.

"How are you back from the dead?" Peter asked. "Aslan killed you."

"Magic like mine never stays gone for long," Jadis replied. "Even Aslan has always known that. I wonder, did he ever warn you of my return?"

Silence was her answer.

The sharp pain returned, stronger than before as it jammed into his side, leaving him nearly breathless.

"You believe your defiance makes you strong. We will test that, I assure you."

"Why did you take me?"

"You brought me back," she snaked. "Your blood courses through my veins. I only live because of you."

"No," Peter fought the unsettling fear that rested around him. "Why did you use my blood?"

She smirked. No response ever came.

"We have more important things to discuss, little king."

Then, that was when the pain started.


	3. Strength and Bones

Being stabbed is quite painful, no matter where on the body it occurs. Being stabbed all over your body all at once was nearly unbearable.

Jadis never even had to move. With a flick of her finger, an intense pain would pierce right through his skin and stay there. Then, Jadis would add another and then another.

Having been stabbed twice before in his life, once by Jadis herself, Peter thought he knew how painful it could be. Granted, she had only stabbed his upper arm nor was it very deep.

All the same, all the training and fighting he had done had not prepared him to be squirming against his restraints and writhing in his seat.

At first, he had tried not to yell. Honestly, he did not want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the verbal confirmation of his suffering. But after the first hundred stabbing pains were pulsing through his body, he had no choice other than to scream. The pain had been too terrible.

The next hundred pains erupted through his body, and then the following hundred came. Peter had tears begging to be released. His wrists burned from his pulling on the restraints, and his lungs could barely catch a breath between screams.

Each one of his siblings passed through his mind; each one he sent a prayer to help him. No savior came.

Instead, he found some peace when he blacked out.

The peace did not last long because he woke up to a knife slicing him across his forearm. It was a shallow cut, and it stung more than it did any serious damage. But it got him back to consciousness.

The only mercy was, at least, now it seemed that the stabbing pain had stopped.

Panting and drenched in sweat, Peter took a moment more to breathe before he gathered the strength to glare at her.

"You are not the first to look at me with such disdain before," Jadis claimed. "You will not be the last."

"You are just wasting your time being resurrected," Peter said in response. "Hurting me will not change that when my siblings find that I have been taken captive, they will march the entire Narnian Army here."

Jadis molded over his words only for a moment before saying, "Your belief in your siblings is misplaced. They will not be saving you."

"You are wrong," Peter said firmly.

"I am certain they will be quite content without you. But we will see which of us are correct."

Moving on from her jab, Peter asked, "Why haven't you killed me yet? If you wanted the throne, your first act should have been to kill Narnia's High King."

"High King? Is that what they named you?" She smirked, amused mockery lingering on her tone. "How desperate of them."

"Mock as you will. I was crowned by Aslan, and nothing you do will change that."

She crooned before saying with amusement in her voice, "Oh, how much you have changed. A lion names you King, and you believe yourself worthy." She seemed intrigued by the sentiment. She studied Peter for a moment before saying, "Unlike last time, Aslan is not coming to save you."

"And when he does?"

"Things don't happen twice," she promised. "And I'll prove it to you."

Peter swallowed at her tone. She spoke with superiority over him, as if she knew something he did not. Something that would make him doubt Aslan.

_No, Aslan has always come when my siblings or I have needed him_. Peter had no reason to doubt him, and therefore, refused to.

The way Jadis's smile twisted, he thought she could tell he did not believe her. It made him even more nervous.

"Bring him to me," Jadis ordered. Peter was hastily unchained and dragged a foot from her.

He could not stop the shakiness that clung to his chest. His breathing hitched, as she cleared the distance between them and latched her hands around his wrist. He yelped, desperately pulling away from her grip. Her fingernails dug into his skin, drawing blood. It did not faze her.

Instead, her grip tightened. The two of them locked eyes, her expression unreadable.

With a cruel pop, she sharply yanked his wrist downward, breaking the bones holding his wrist together in pieces. Immediately, his hand went limp, and the pain pierced through his arm. He had cried out when she broke it. She seemed to relish in his pain. It disgusted him.

Peter staggered back, cradling his now broken wrist. She did not try to stop him from pulling away from her. It only took a second for Peter to see why she did not attempt to keep him by her side.

One of the ogres slammed into him, sending him spiraling to the ground. He cried out again when his injured wrist dashed across the ice. He protectively took hold of it, hoping to keep it guarded.

It did not matter. The next second, he saw the same ogre, raise his club above his head.

"No, don't!" Peter harshly got out before the ogre brought down his club right on Peter's knee.

A hundred splitters of bone shattered at contact. A cry escaped his lips. He reached to grab a hold of his now shattered kneecap only to be hit with a hammer on his shin. The shin did not break at first contact though. The dwarf continued his assault until the bone cracked.

Then the next strike came to his ribs.

At one point, Jadis had offered, "I can make them stop. All you have to do is ask."

As soon as those words left her mouth, he had decided he would not beg to her. He might be her captive for now, but he was still High King after all. Besides, he was not all that sure she would stop them even if he had begged her to.

But as more of her followers cracked his bones, he was struggling to keep that line of thinking in check. He prayed it would be over soon.

It was not. Following, the ribs, they went to his hands and his feet, then to his arms and his legs. He was helpless against them, and they only continued their onslaught until they broke nearly every bone in his body. All that could be heard was the shattering of bones and screams of pain that followed suit.

But the true pain came after almost every bone in his body had been shattered. He was lying on the floor, a broken heap. When the blows subsided, the pain took full grip of him. It was nauseating. He looked at how his arms hung limp at his side or even how his feet were twisted wrong. Every inch of him was in an awful pain.

It did not matter to Jadis, as she came over. She gripped the top of his hair, yanking him to a sitting position. He whimpered in pain and landed painfully on his rear once she released his hair. Again, the two locked eyes. He was uncertain what she could do to him now. She already broke every bone in his body. However, with the glow of her hand, she touched his crooked feet.

At first, nothing happened until the bones in his feet started shifting back in their place piece by piece. Peter screamed in pain, writhing as he did, which only resulted in more pain from moving his broken bones prematurely.

As the pain moved up to his shin and caused a sharp jab to ripple through his body, Peter asked, "What are you doing!?"

"Healing you, my dear," she said with not a trace of kindness. Certainly, she was healing his broken bones, but the cruelness was in the slowed amount of time she took doing so. They both knew it.

As soon as the healing reached his upper shin, he was nearly in tears. He had to bit his bottom lip, drawing blood, to keep himself from crying. He refused to let her see him cry.

"St—" he caught himself. She only smirked knowingly, as she continued her healing.

Once she started healing the many shards of bones that once made up his kneecap, the pain was excruciating. Although he tried to fight it, the pain caused his vision to become a blinding white before he blacked out entirely.

He came to only seconds later. She had seemed to wait for him to regain consciousness before she proceeded further up his body.

The healing process was far more painful than the initial breaks. If anyone had asked Peter if the healing of bones was worse than breaking them prior to this, he would have said you were lying.

Every inch of him hurt, and he was no longer certain which parts were still broken or were already healed. Panting and shaking, Peter just laid there. He did not think he could move. Numbness gripped his being and clenched around him, making even the cold seem dull, just for a moment.

With a snap, the next bone was set into place; a cry escaped Peter's lips. How many bones did he have left to be healed?

He mentally pleaded for it to be over soon. As much as he wanted her to stop, he did not want—could not give her the satisfaction of making him beg her to stop.

Jadis took her time healing every single broken bone. The process took what felt like hours to finish.

When she was finally done, Peter was exhausted to his core, drained of all energy. A distant numbing still had a hold of his body. He could not move an inch. He was not sure if he was still in pain or if his brain just thought he still was.

He vaguely heard Jadis say something. He could not even protest when the one centaur flung him across his shoulder.

Tiredness danced around his eyes and at the edge of his limbs. All he wanted to do was sleep and wake up back at home with his siblings.

But the thought that kept ringing through his exhaustion was the haunting realization that if this was just Jadis's introduction to what she had in store for him, how was he going to survive against her?


	4. Hope

"Peter!"

Edmund's distant voice dashed across Peter's ears. It startled him. At first, Peter thought he had imagined it, for he had been blindfolded for what he could only guess had been hours. He thought his brain might have been playing tricks on him. He had been craving any other sound other than the rattling of his chains.

As his heart dropped in the doubt of having heard him at all, Edmund's voice called again: "Peter! Where are you?" His voice sounded young, raw. Scared.

Hope scattered across his heart. _Edmund was here_. It did not matter how he was; Peter only cared that Edmund was there. Peter tried to call out to him. The gag tied between his teeth prevented from much sound to come out. He yelled all he could nonetheless, praying that Edmund would hear him. His throat was uncomfortably dry and raw.

"Peter!" The voice was closer this time. Chains rattled and yells only became more desperate.

The door slammed open carelessly, smashing against the wall with a loud thud. Peter etched forward to hear Edmund's footsteps. Despite not hearing any, he heard Edmund's voice say, "Peter."

He sounded so young. So terrified. The gag was untied behind his head, and Peter was able to breathe properly again.

"Ed, you're here," Peter said with a relieved voice. "You have to get me out of here."

"What did they do to you?" Edmund asked. His voice almost sounded hollow to Peter, and Edmund was not helping him out of these chains.

Peter answered his question regardless, "It's the White Witch. She is back." He felt shame flecks across his face. She had used him to come back after all. "She is just as horrible as you always said."

"Oh, Peter," Edmund's voice sounded off now more than ever. But Peter did not realize what it was until Edmund's hand touched his cheek.

Peter leaned into the touch, craving to be comforted by him. Only as he did, he felt the hand that was touching his face. It was cold. The fingers were long and thin.

They were not Edmund's.

With harsh recoil, Peter slammed his head on the back of the chair he was chained to. The only confirmation that he had been correct was the blindfold being ripped off his eyes to reveal Jadis right in front of him.

His hope crashed down around him in a matter of moments, leaving him feeling a hurtful sting to his eyes that nearly brought on tears. It felt like a punch in his gut.

"If I had known that all I had to do was let you hear your brother's voice to make you like this." She gestured to all of him before she had a bit of a chuckle and continued, "I would have done it sooner."

Swallowing the emotions that had gathered in his throat, he sharply looked away to gather composure before he redirected his attention back to her when he was ready. She just had a smug smirk on her face.

"You will be much easier to deal with than Edmund ever was."

He shifted uncomfortably at the sentiment.

"How has Edmund been?" She asked. Peter pulled away the best he could at her question. "Is he still quiet? Keeps to himself mostly?" Her prying made Peter nearly squirm. She had no right to ask about Edmund.

He gave her no answer. Instead, she leaned in closer to him. He pressed his back to the chair to get away from her. It did not seem to matter. She had closed the distance between them. Her hands clawed onto his forearms, preventing him from raising his hands to even pretend to push her away from him.

Instead, after fidgeting once, he stayed completely still, unsure if he was even breathing anymore.

"Whatever did you do with him anyway? Made him a slave under your whim, I suppose," she insisted.

With a small squirm, Peter pulled to get away from her only once more before answering.

"He is King alongside us," Peter quietly said.

"You made that traitor a King?"

Peter flinched at the word _traitor_, remembering how much the White Witch had wanted to murder Edmund just for being that word.

There was a twisted laugh in her voice. She asked, "Did he ever tell you about our time together?" Peter waited with bated breath, uncertain about what she could say next. "Did he ever tell you how we first met? How he almost immediately offered you and your sisters in exchange for the power I could give him?"

Her face warped into a wicked smile when he gave no answer.

"Oh, I see he is still keeping secrets from you after all these years," Jadis said with finality to her voice. She backed off, taking her hands off his arms and taking a step back.

That stung. Cut through most of the defenses Peter had to protect himself. He did not want to think that his brother did not trust him.

_Edmund has proven he trusts you countless times_, he tried to remind himself. However, even he could not ignore that her words carried their own weight that her strength could never match.

"I know enough," Peter said, feeling a bit better the more he spoke. "I trust Edmund entirely. You will not divide again."

She waited a moment longer than he expected she would. It made Peter unsettled just having to stare at her. It seemed she was either considering his words or giving him more time to speak.

When he did not, she placed a finger to chin, tapping a few times before saying, "What is interesting is that I never divided you in the first place." She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Your brother came to me. When I offered him the chance to be Prince at the price of bringing you three to me, he was all the more willing. Did he not try to have you leave the Beaver's dam to come to me?"

The worst part was that there was truth in her words. Edmund and Peter already had their problems when they were back in England. They had fought and hardly were on the same side. Even further, Peter remembered all too well that Edmund had tried to get them to go to the White Witch.

Her words left him breathless and with an eerie pit in his stomach. He did not want to have to remember his brother's worst moments. Most of all, he did not want to hear it from the White Witch herself. Edmund should have been able to tell him if he chose to.

But her words still made his heart ache in a way it had not for nearly five years now. He did not want to think about how Edmund had chosen power and a stranger over him, even if Edmund had not realized the extent of what he was doing.

They had skirted around the topic for the most part. The four of them had briefly discussed his meeting with the White Witch while discussing his capture, but never in great detail. _Maybe I should have pressed him more about it, he thought_.

"No," Peter was speaking before his brain fully processed it. Jadis perked up with clear intrigue. "My brother has made mistakes, but you will not change how I feel about him."

All Jadis did was offer a chuckle, saying, "There is much you do not know. I am certain the truth will change how you feel soon enough."


	5. Kings Don't Answer to Witches

A hard slap woke Peter after the brief rest he had gotten. He must have fallen asleep. His cheek stung and felt like it was on fire. Before he could even make a sound, the cloth was ripped out of his mouth.

"Drink," a deep voice insisted. Without much more of a warning, a metal rim of what could only have been a cup was jammed painfully between his teeth, and a claw yanked on his hair to keep him still.

With the blindfold on, he could not see who was hurting him, but it did not keep him from squirming. One painful tug on his hair pinned his head back, and water started flowing into his mouth.

It was too much. Choking on the overwhelming amount of water, Peter could not swallow any of it. Instead, as soon as the claw released his head, he toppled over to the side of the chair, spitting out most of the water.

Peter coughed repeatedly, trying to clear his throat. While just the water being in his mouth offered a minor respite from his thirst, the coughing only highlighted the rawness in his throat.

"That will be all the water you receive for today," the voice warned him. Peter only coughed a bit more before claws scratched at his wrists until his chains were undone.

Peter yanked the blindfold off before the werewolf grabbed a hold of both of his wrists. Even though he had to helplessly watch as the werewolf tied his wrists together with rope regardless of his attempts to pull away, he was glad when the werewolf did not put the blindfold on again.

He really hated being restrained like this. Not only was the terror of the entire situation reaching him, but being prevented from seeing or even speaking was unnerving. He hated how powerless he was here.

With his hands tied in front of him, the werewolf pulled him to his feet. As they walked, Peter noticed that the distance from where he was being kept and the throne room was not too far from each other. After a short walk, they were back in the throne room. Unlike all the other times, he was not blindfolded for this walk, and he had used it to his advantage. He tried to memorize the way they came to the throne room. He would need to know it to escape. He remembered entering from the opposite side of her throne when he was first brought in the castle. If he could get out of his iced cell, he could get out of the castle. He just needed to be patient.

_Wait for a moment where your enemy makes a mistake, that is the time to strike_, Oreius's voice ran through his head. He just needed to get through what the Witch had in store for him.

However, as he saw her there, holding her stone knife, he was uncertain how well he was equipped to handle it. Even though it was futile, he pulled to get out of the werewolf's grasp. All that did was cause the werewolf to grab onto both of Peter's arms and hold him in front of him as they walked.

Peter was brought in front of Jadis, and the werewolf pushed down on the back of his knee, forcing him to his knees before her. She looked pleased.

"I know that look," she claimed. "Putting on a brave face will not change the weakness you have or the fear that is evident."

"And hurting me will not change that my siblings will defeat you once more, and you will go back to the dead."

"Your hope in them is so endearing. It's nearly sickening," she sneered. Her joy returned to her as she said, "I have something exciting for us to do together today," Peter swallowed hard as she continued, "I will ask you questions, and you will answer them."

Without warning, the dwarf to his right came over and slashed a knife across his arm. The cut stung, and he yelled out in surprise and pain.

"Every time you lie, every question you do not answer, one of them will inflict pain on you."

"I am not telling you anything," Peter declared. He was unsure how she could tell if he was lying, but he was afraid to test it. "I will not betray my family or Narnia."

"No, no," she said with a lightness in her voice that sounded fake. "We have not seen each other in five years. So much has happened. I just want to know about your life."

"I doubt that very much," he said. She just smirked in reply.

Her first question was, "You are High King, correct? Are all four of you on the throne together?"

It was bait. One Peter did not take. It was an easy question. One she knew the answer to. He did not yield and neither did she. The dwarf went to slice him again. This time, Peter was not going to idly wait to be cut again.

Instead, Peter took his tied hands and swung them at the dwarf, knocking him down. Peter got to his feet, trying to hit the satyr coming towards him, but one of the minotaurs just smashed him to the ground. Hands held him down, pinning his shoulders to the ice until he stopped struggling as much. He squirmed under their hold.

Jadis strolled over to him. Expecting to see a face of fury, he was surprised to see her amusement.

"Oh, I have missed this," she claimed. With that said, she sliced across his leg with her stone knife. Pain surged through his body, and he struggled to get out of their hold.

They all just laughed. More cuts landed on his body as she asked him more questions about his family and about ruling.

He squirmed as she asked, "Did you forgive your brother for betraying you?" _Yes_. A slash came across his chest when his silence was the only answer he gave.

"Do you think you are worthy to be King?" _No, but I will be_. A cut grazed his arm.

"Do you trust your siblings with ruling when you are not there?" _Entirely_. All she heard was silence. Her knife slashed across his stomach.

She kept trying to pry, and with every question, he remained silent. Most of the questions were harmless; he assumed they were meant to be. He did not answer all the same. For every refusal, he was cut on his body.

He had nearly twenty cuts when she asked, "As High King, do you hold ultimate authority in Narnia?"

To this question, Peter actually answered, "Aslan does."

Fury overtook her at Aslan's name, and he thought for certain she was going to cut him. She did not.

Instead, with deadliness in her voice, she threatened, "Do not say his name in my presence again."

It was ill advised, yet he could not help but say, "Does he really frighten you that much?"

For a moment, her mask had faltered, and Peter saw the anger flow through her. Her fury was quite terrifying. For that moment, his defiance was open and proud.

It was short lived.

Her rage never left her as she plunged her stone knife into Peter's stomach. He gasped in pain, trying to sit up, despite the hands that held him.

Oh, there was so much blood. As it pooled on his stomach, Jadis came to his face, crouching down closer to him. He was shaking and bleeding. He was losing too much blood. He had to be. But as she yanked her blade out, she seemed all too calm. She was not afraid of him dying.

His body jerked towards the now open wound. Her stone knife was covered in red sticky blood. His blood.

As he shook, she grabbed a hold of his face, forcing him to look at her. When he did, that was when he felt the new intensity surrounding his stomach. It felt like someone was ripping his wound apart.

Burning and bursting in pain, Peter cried out, screaming, "Stop!"

For a brief moment, the pain stopped. All of the pain stopped.

She just looked down at him with a hateful glare, saying with absolute certainty, "Only when you belong to me."


	6. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter is more graphic and violent than the prior chapters and may not be suitable for all readers. **
> 
> **Please, be advised and proceed with caution. **

He woke up stiff and cold. Far too cold. When he opened his eyes, he saw the blindfold was there once more along with the gag. Peter's hatred only seethed. She will pay for doing this, Peter told himself. She had to. She could not get away with hurting him like this.

Certainly, she was hurting him. Every inch of him hurt. Incredibly. Although he was quite limited, when he moved, nothing hurt any more than when he was stationary.

After stabbing him, Jadis had healed his wounds slowly. He had passed out not long after. Only to be awoken when her soldiers held his face in water until he was flailing to breathe. They let him up and dragged him back to his cell. He must have passed out again because he did not remember anything else after that.

He shifted his legs and arms. Even the stab in his stomach had healed. Granted, it still all ached, but he had experienced worse.

He needed to get out of here. He did not think he could handle it too much longer. She was just slowly chipping away at him, and he was afraid of what would happen when she cut too deep.

Therefore, this was the thought that drove him when the werewolf came once more. As before, the werewolf ripped the gag out of his mouth and forced water into his mouth. It was just as aggressive as the last time. This time, when the werewolf unchained him, Peter took the blindfold off and placed a kick into the side of the werewolf. The werewolf was caught off guard and landed on the ground.

_This is my chance!_ Peter thought to himself, as he stumbled towards the door. Just as he nearly reached it, the werewolf grasped his ankle, pulling until he took Peter's legs out from under him.

With a painful crash, Peter landed on the frozen ground with a thud. As quickly as he could, Peter scrambled away from the werewolf, as he clawed at Peter's legs to get a new hold on him.

A well-placed kick at the werewolf's head caused him to let go of Peter and bought Peter enough time to get to his feet. The kick did not do any true damage because the werewolf was coming right at him after only being dazed for a moment.

Peter raced out the door, slamming it behind him. The only way he knew that he had succeeded in trapping the werewolf was the clawing and scratching at the door. The werewolf slammed into the door to no avail. He was trapped, and Peter was freed.

Taking a few moments to regain his composure, Peter headed towards the throne room. He just needed to get outside. Once he found someone, they could help him get away or at least send for help. _Just get outside first_.

He was careful and quiet as he crept down the hallway. The stairs had a whined to it, which prevented him from seeing too much in front of him.

His breathing was rapid, and he could tell by the way that puffs of iced breath left his mouth. Every sound made him jump, and as much as he wanted to be extra quiet, he knew that the longer he took to get out of the castle, the more likely the other guards were to find that he had escaped.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard approaching voices. His heart nearly stopped right there. As he saw the shadows reflecting off the ice, he darted to his right, down the hallway. Once he rounded the corner, he kept his back to the wall, praying that they would not find him.

Sneaking a glance, he saw it was two of the minotaurs approaching. He snapped back around to the safety of his hiding place. _Please, do not find me_, Peter silently prayed. The voices only grew louder, and Peter feared they would come down the way he had hidden. Peter felt the coldness latch onto his skin, and his heart was pounding in his ears.

_Please, don't find me, please_.

Just when he thought for certain they would, the voices grew distant.

Even with his heart pounding, he chanced a glance to see that the minotaurs no longer were there. Taking a huffing breath, he quietly walked back towards the throne room, just barely catching a glimpse of the arm of one of the minotaurs as they went down the stairs Peter had come from.

His nerves were twisted around, and he was shaking, but his vision and his head were clear, despite the headache. He needed to get out.

His feet scratched against the icy ground as he reached one of the arched entrances to the throne room. He surprisingly saw no one was in there.

At first dismissed as paranoia, Peter thought for a moment it was a trap. There should be someone, if not the White Witch herself, here.

But despite this thinking, he silently prayed for this to be his escape. With eagerness, he stepped into the throne room.

Although he picked up his pace, he noticed his blood still stained the ice where he was cut all of those times. It would have made him very uneasy if he was not honed on escaping.

With what started out as a careful pace turned into sprint as soon as he was in front of the corridor that led shaky legs, he did not stop going as fast as he could. His pace only quickened when he heard a voice.

"Get him!" A snarl shouted behind him.

He took off. He glanced back at the several creatures all chasing after him. He did not have much time to worry if they would catch him.

Because she did.

When Peter turned to look back at where he was running, he ran right into Jadis's hand. It clasped right around his throat, almost immediately cutting off his air.

She lifted him right off his feet. His toes danced across the ground. His hands tried to pry her fingers off, but she just squeezed tighter.

"You cannot leave yet, Peter, dear," Jadis's mockingly sweet voice returned. A smile lingered on her face, even as Peter clawed at her hand.

Without much effort, she tossed him to the ground with a thud. He shuffled back on the ground when she stalked towards him; her stone knife clutched in her hand.

His palms scratched the surface of the iced floor, and he almost got to his feet before Jadis swung the stone knife. Peter dropped to the ground to avoid it.

He slid away from her for only a moment more before her guards grabbed a hold of him. They dragged him back. He kicked and screamed; it made no difference.

Thrown back on the floor in her throne room, the White Witch towered over him.

"You should not have done that, Peter," she warned. Her voice hollowed. She switched her hold on her knife.

She only glared at him once more before plunging the blade through his leg. It pierced right through the bone, wedging itself in the ice beneath him. He cried out.

"Stop," he pleaded. "Please, stop." As she yanked the blade out of his leg, he could not help the whimper that left his lips.

After his hands clasped around both sides of his shin, he saw the blood that was seeping through his pants, staining his hands. With the strength he could muster, he was shaky looking up at her.

"I do not take rebellion lightly, as I am sure you remember," Jadis said.

He remembered Mr. Tumnus's destroyed home and all the people she had killed during the Battle of Beruna. If he was not already shaking, he might have started to do so at her words. But he held his glare the best he could. Her lips pursued, as she tapped her finger on the hilt of her knife. She seemed to be contemplating something. Her fury faded the longer she stared at him.

"A lesson must be learned here."

She gestured to her left with a nod of her head. As the guards grabbed a hold of his biceps, he tried to squirm out of their grasp, but ultimately, he could not. His blood smeared against the ice and only followed in a trail behind him.

They dragged him to the nearest pillar, taking shackles and locking his arms around the other side of the pillar. His chest rested against the pillar, and his cheek rubbed against it.

Peter felt a numbness overtake his body, as he was quite afraid of what was coming.

He really could not turn his head to see what was happening behind him, but every part of him stopped when she ordered, "Fetch my whip."

"No, no, don't do this," Peter pleaded, fear overtaking his desire to appear tough to her. He pulled on the chains that held his wrists; they burned and were already very raw.

"You tried to escape. That cannot go unanswered for."

He heard scurrying behind him, and finally, all movement stopped.

"Remember, I do hate crying. If I even hear a sound come from you, I will add on five lashes," Jadis reminded him. Her threat sent a chill down his back.

"Don't do this," he pleaded one last time.

Instead, her only response: "This will be very painful for you. I will enjoy this far more than you shall."

There was a hollowed silence following her last words, a desperate anticipation. He tried to brace himself. The waiting for the first strike was terrifying.

_Please Aslan, give me strength, please_, Peter silently pleaded.

The first lash struck his back. He bit down on his lip to keep the yelp suppressed. The slash burned and made his eyes water.

Another lash. He writhed under the strike. Then another one.

Only after three did Peter's bite draw blood from his lip.

Another lash scathed across his back. He pulled on his restraints in desperation to get away. It was futile.

_Edmund, please, find me_, Peter thought to himself, as he held in the desperate cry that wanted to come out. _Susan, Lucy, please_.

Two more lashes snapped against his back.

_Please, Aslan, help me_, Peter pleaded.

His prayer was only answered with another slash across his back. His blood trickled down his back. His wounds were burning and raw.

It only took one more lash for him to cry out. The new lash had dashed one of the formers, and a painful cry escaped his lips.

"Oh, what had I told you, my little king?" She asked with false care.

The whip snapped against him once more. Another yell came out.

"You must not want this to be over," Jadis said, taking a brief pause.

"Just stop," Peter quietly pleaded.

"No, you must learn," Jadis promised. "Learn that when I am here, all will bend to my will, even you."

Another lash scorched his skin, but this time he kept his pain silently.

He had only succeeded one more time before screaming for every lash after.

He tugged on his restraints until his wrists were bleeding. He pleaded with her to stop. He silently begged Aslan to save him.

Nothing did save him though. Instead, he took every lash. Every single one. When the White Witch was finally done, Peter was drained and aching. Every inch of his back burned and his leg throbbed. He barely even felt the scorching sensation of her healing his wounds.

His vision blurred, as he was being unchained. He did not even fight them when they dragged him between two of her guards.

Exhaustion was fluttering all around him, and he was too numb to have any fight in him at all.


	7. A Brother's Betrayal

He woke up to Edmund's voice. It was soft and delicate. Often times, that was not how Peter was ever woken up by his brother, but there was a gentleness that Peter craved.

"Peter, you have to wake up," Edmund's voice called to him. He shook Peter's shoulder. As Peter blinked his eyes open, he immediately felt the achiness to his body. Soreness was evident.

But as his vision fixated on Edmund standing in front of him, Peter could not contain the spark of hope that entered his chest.

"Good, you're awake," Edmund said with worry in his voice. He was wearing his armor, sword strapped to his hip. Gingerly, he took the cloth out of Peter's mouth; the tied cloth landed on Peter's collarbone. "We need to leave. Are you hurt?" There was urgency to his voice.

_This has to be real_, Peter thought to himself. _He looks and sounds like the Edmund I know. All the details are right_.

Peter was lost in his conclusions that he missed what Edmund was saying next.

"Peter, where is the White Witch?"

Peter blinked blankly at him before saying, "I don't know." He shook his head. "She has kept me locked in here unless I was with her."

Edmund seemed upset by this, as he leaned in closer to Peter. His hand reached up to touch Peter's face before he pulled his hand back hesitantly.

"I'll get you away from here," Edmund said with certainty. "I promise, Peter. You will never have to see her again."

Oh, how Peter's heart soared. He needed this to be real. Needed it. He was bruised and battered. He needed help.

But his logical side of himself made him ask, "How do I know you aren't one of her illusions?"

"What do you mean?" Bemusement was evident on his face.

"She has made me see you before, saving me, but it was all a trick."

"It's me, Peter. I am here to rescue you," Edmund reasoned.

"Ed, please, how do I know you are real?"

Only after a moment's pause did he answer: "You don't."

That was when Peter felt the blade enter his stomach. Edmund's hand held the hilt.

"Ed?" Peter choked out, pulling on his chains to try to get Edmund's dagger out of him.

As the two of them both moved their attention from the dagger wedged in Peter's stomach to making eye contact, a smirk rested on Edmund's face. A smug one, one he had never worn while they were in Narnia.

The illusion faded around them, revealing Jadis holding the dagger. He gasped, feeling the pain shooting through him. She seemed to relish in it.

"I wonder how many times I have to show you your brother falsely saving you before you stop believing it," she said cruelly. A whimper left him when she slowly pulled the dagger. He nearly choked on a suppressed sob.

His hope had been sparked. He was hopeful it was real. He desperately wanted an escape, only to be disappointed.

With a flick of her wrist, the wound in his stomach started to heal gradually. It seemed like she intended to inflict the maximum amount of damage on him while still keeping him alive.

"Why are you wasting your time with me?" Peter asked, gritting his teeth to the sharp burning sensation of his new wound healing. "Why haven't you just killed me and gotten it over with?"

"Are you not enjoying our time together, dear one?" She asked.

Peter flinched at the name of endearment. Aslan was the only one to ever call him or his siblings that. It felt vile hearing it come out of her mouth.

"You and your siblings were the reason why the people rebelled. You led the army against me," she said with such disdain in her voice.

"Vengeance then?" Peter asked. "Does not seem like something you would waste your time on."

"No? My vengeance was having your brother against you," she countered.

"We have been through this. You are not changing how I feel about Edmund. You can keep your lies to yourself."

"I do not lie," Jadis said with finality. "I speak the truth when I tell you that dear Edmund had wanted revenge against you for humiliating him."

There was a weight to her words. His head hurt him too much to try to clarify if she was exactly wrong. He vaguely recalled Edmund mentioning some part of that.

"Oh, and he was all the more pleased for you to become his servant underneath him. The entire idea of sharing a kingship with you disgusted him so," Jadis said cruelly. "I have never seen a Son of Adam's face light up quicker than when I told him he could be King and you, his slave."

Peter's eyes widened. He had no counter this time. He did not know what to do with this new information. He did not know if it was true.

_No, no, Edmund would not have wanted that. He would not have. She is just trying to hurt me_.

"You are lying," Peter accused far less confidently than he hoped he would sound.

"I swear on the Deep Magic, it is true."

Peter's heart dropped. Every fighting spirit he had faltered. That kind of oath did not seem like one that could be used lightly, which meant that at least part of it had to be true. Peter physically had to shake his head to snap out of the spiral that she was deliberately sending him on.

"It does not matter then. Edmund is my brother, and he has changed. We all have."

"I am sure he appears that way," Jadis agreed, "but people like him are survivors. He adapted. If he did not look like he repented, he would never have become King."

"He is not like that. He wouldn't do that," Peter defended.

"He betrayed countless people while here in Narnia to protect himself. He let people be slaughtered for his actions, but if it kept him alive, he kept providing me with more information, no matter who it harmed," Jadis's words cut him deeply. "This was just the next part of his act."

Peter hated that she was planting doubt in his mind. Edmund had saved him in far more ways than one. They were closer than brothers. That could not be faked. Peter refused to believe such insinuations.

"You don't believe me yet, but you will," Jadis promised. "You just need time to think it over." She came over to him, forcing the cloth back into his mouth. With a quick precision, she tied a blindfold over his eyes.

With her final steps leaving the room echoed off the ice, Peter was left alone in far more ways than one.


	8. Panicking On All Sides

Reports had flooded in of bodies found at the edge of the Western Woods. With preliminary scouts verifying that it was Peter's guard, Edmund and Susan took dozens of soldiers with them to find the truth of what happened.

The scouts had promised Peter was not among the dead, but it did not ease Edmund in the least. He had to do all he could just to keep the nerves from overtaking him entirely. Immediately, they had sent scouts all over Narnia to track down where Peter might be or what had happened. No one had found a trace of Peter though.

As he rode on Phillip's back for the journey, Edmund played repeatedly in his head the last time he saw Peter. Peter was laughing and reassuring that he would be fine. All of their intelligence reports had claimed that the heart of the remaining Witch's army was down South where Oreius and their army were seeing to them.

Peter was only supposed to check on their people who were attacked by a handful Witch's soldiers on his way to Beaver's dam. It was supposed to take less than seven days for him to return home.

Today was day two since Peter had gone missing, or at least, since they found out he was attacked.

"Edmund," Susan pulled her horse next to him. "We do not know what happened yet. Try easing your worried mind with that knowledge."

Edmund had been perfecting, or so he thought, how well he could hide his emotions. For the most part, he could hide them well, except from his siblings, who could all apparently read him as easily as a book.

"The varying possibilities are what bother me," Edmund said. "We have no information on where Peter is. What if whoever killed his guard hurt him or worse?"

She reached across, taking his hand. "We will find him," she reassured, despite the plain concern in her own expression.

"All we can do is ask Aslan to watch over him until we find him, wherever that may be," Edmund bitterly conceded.

There was no point in discussing their worries. Edmund knew he would only feel better once Peter was safe at home. That is why he called out for the soldiers around them to be prepared to make haste after this brief rest.

As everyone was resituating their supplies and weapons to make for another run, Susan gave his hand a little squeeze before saying, "He will be alright," Susan released his hand and gave him a smile. "He is Peter after all."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jadis had left Peter with his thoughts, which were bothering him more than even the physical pain she had inflicted on him. It was probably why she was leaving him alone. The blindfold was back on as was the cloth tied between his teeth. He had nothing else to focus on other than his fear and the words Jadis had been speaking.

At first, Peter was able to distract himself with the hunger growing in his stomach and the thirst that scratched at his throat. That focus last for only some time before he shifted uncomfortably in his chained seat.

He only had a few moments before one terrible question hit him: What if they don't find me? The question hit him like a ton of bricks. He tried to keep himself at bay. He felt a chilling panic creep up on him.

_I have to remain strong_, Peter reminded himself confidently. _I can be strong. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy will realize I am gone once I do not return home—_

The supposed comforting thought took a sharp turn. Peter was meant to be checking on their people who were attacked. It had taken him around three days to travel to where he was ambushed, and he was supposed to go visit the Beavers after.

It would be days before his siblings even could reach him. _Days._

And that would only be the case if everyone was ready to assemble as soon as they found out he was missing and were able to find him.

How long could he handle what the White Witch had planned for him?

Panic overtook him, and when Peter could not catch his breath because of the gag, his breathing only increased. Sweat covered his body, and he could feel his heart pounding through his chest.

His thoughts raced, and he could no longer stop the intrusive thoughts._ I am going to die here. And then Susan, Lucy, and oh, Edmund will have to deal with her. What if she hurts them? I don't want to die, not by her hands, not like this_.

There was not much coherency in his thoughts nor could he find a way to turn off the spiral. As the thoughts became more and more terrifying, he found he was shivering and felt the heat around his face.

He could not calm down. He tried to employ some breathing techniques, but he could not ever get enough air in his mouth nor could he try to do it for very long.

_I can't breathe_. That conclusion sent him down another spiral.

_Or she is going to keep me trapped here with her. And I can't get out, and I can't handle this. Not like this. Not without help. What if they don't find me? What if I am stuck here forever with her? What if they never find me—_

_They will find you_. There was such a confidence in the sudden thought; he thought it could not have been his own. His breathing halted until he thought further. _I am not going to die_. 

_They will find me. I am not going to die_.

He repeated this mantra in his head over and over again, until he was left with a slight tremble and the ache in his chest. These words were a constant thought cycle until his breathing slowed, and he did not feel like he was going to pass out any more.

As he calmed further, he could think clearly again.

_They will find me. I am not going to die here_


	9. Visions of Truths and Lies

Despite feeling weaker and deprived of every need, Peter's resolve remained intact. His repeated mantra had worked and made him feel better for the time being. His siblings would find him. He was more confident of that than ever.

While he did still resist the guards, his fear was not as prominent as it had been. He thought that he could handle what she might do to him. He just had to last a bit longer. His siblings would arrive, and he could go home. It was the only thought that kept him going.

This time, when Peter was brought into the throne room, Jadis was sitting on her throne, waiting for him.

However, unlike all the other times where he was brought to her feet or chained to a chair, this time, he was dragged right next to her throne and chained to the pillar beside her. His hands were forced behind the pillar and chained there. At least, Peter hoped that meant he would not be whipped again. He felt the shakiness return to his hands with the White Witch glaring at him.

"Peter, dear, I have thought of something truly special for you," she announced. Peter sent a silent prayer of haste to his siblings before Jadis continued, "I realized that there is much you do not know, and what better way for you to learn than to show you."

Peter tried to speak through the cloth tied between his lips, but ultimately, it came out as a muffled mess. She just smirked at it, as she walked over to him. The closer she got to him, the more he pulled to get away from her. He only moved a few inches away before she crouched beside him.

She leaned in close to his face, and Peter flinched. "This will be painful," Jadis warned softly, "in far more ways than one."

As she leaned back, she must have seen uncertainty and the growing fear that was on his face. She reached up slowly, taking her time to savor Peter's discomfort. He shifted to get away, squirmed under her gaze. It did not matter. Her fingers brushed his cheek, which made him shudder and close his eyes. She was too close. Too close. Panic flared just for a moment. It all faded once she touched his temple.

Her fingers barely touched him before a terrible pain shot from that point all the way down his body. A painful outcry left him, and his eyes snapped open.

When his eyes opened, he was no longer in the throne room. He was not in her castle at all. The night was dark, and the only light was the gleam of torchlights that glistened around. He was standing in the middle of a parted path of Jadis's followers. They were shrieking and growling at him.

Looking ahead, he saw Jadis, standing in complete black, her stone knife resting in her hand.

_The Stone Table! _She was standing on the Stone Table. It was still whole. _What was this vision of?_

Only once that thought went through his head did he hear the soft velvet paws grace the ground behind him. Peter did not even need to turn around to know it was Aslan. He did all the same.

"Aslan!" Peter could not contain his joy. He ran up to his side. Aslan did not seem to notice him. Instead, his face remained sad, as he continued walking towards Jadis.

_What is he doing?_ Peter thought before he realized that this must have been the night Aslan sacrificed himself.

The realization punched him in the gut heavier than any blow Jadis could deliver to him.

"Aslan, you need to leave," Peter said hastily. Aslan just ignored him, walking straight passed Peter like he was not even there.

Aslan kept walking, not making a sound, not even when a flying ghoul was blocking his path. He just stopped walking until the creature flew away in fear.

The worst part was understanding that this was real. Whether this was exactly how it happened or not, there was no changing that Aslan had, in fact, endured the White Witch's humiliation all alone and then was executed. It did not matter that Aslan was brought back from the dead. Aslan still experienced this. This understanding made Peter feel sick and uneasy.

The pained look in Aslan's face haunted Peter. He had never seen him look like this. Aslan had always been fearless and mostly joyous. This was different.

Aslan continued to stare up at the White Witch. Peter suddenly appeared right next to the Stone Table in front of Aslan. This time he could not move.

Once Aslan stopped at the foot of the Stone Table, Jadis said, "Behold. The Great Lion." Aslan just looked down in sad acceptance. It hurt Peter dearly to see it.

Jadis's former general, Otimer came over to Aslan, prodding him with the end of his war axe. To this, Aslan just slightly growled. Otimer then smashed his weapon into the side of Aslan, flinging him to the ground. Jadis's followers erupted in cheers. Peter tried to move towards him but was frozen in place.

"Aslan," his name came out more of choked whisper than actually Peter trying to get Aslan to hear him.

Her followers taunted Aslan, throwing names and crude jokes at him. It left Peter feeling hollow.

But Aslan never fought back. He completely submitted. He just laid there.

"Bind him," Jadis ordered. All her followers preyed down on Aslan. They hastily tied his feet and muzzled him with rope. "Wait," Jadis said with a gleam of superiority. All her followers ceased their actions. "Let him first be shaved."

_Oh, Aslan_, Peter thought to himself. _Why didn't you tell me? Why did you ensure so much alone?_

Peter wanted to cry when Jadis's followers cut away at his mane. They tore at his skin, cutting off chunks of his hair with no care. They stepped on him, nicked him with their blades. Aslan never even move.

Finally, when he was shaved, Jadis ordered, "Bring him to me."

"No, no," Peter said aloud, as they started hauling Aslan towards the table by his bindings. They pulled Aslan over each step, not caring as they smashed his body against every part of the steps.

Her followers were cheering and enjoying every moment. Peter did not understand. How could anyone be this joyous about someone's execution? And for Peter, he did not understand who could want to kill Aslan.

As Aslan was finally placed on the Stone Table at Jadis's feet, Peter could now directly see Aslan's face. There was such sorrow and dread on every inch of Aslan.

Jadis snapped out her arm to her side, and all of her followers stopped their cheers. Slowly, one by one, they began to tab on the ground in anticipation. The cheers and roars of delight came again.

They all knew what was coming next.

Jadis gawked over Aslan, much like how she did whenever she had the upper hand with Peter himself. She crouched beside Aslan who continued to look straight at Peter. She leaned over him, almost touching him with her arm. All Peter wanted to do was yell for her to get away from him, but he knew the truth. This does happen. He is killed soon, and this was just a memory.

"You know, Aslan, I'm a little disappointed in you," she whispered to him. Peter could hear every word. "Did you honestly think by all this you could save the human traitor?"

Peter's mind flashed to Edmund. It made him unsteady.

"You are giving me your life, and saving no one," Jadis taunted. She even chuckled before saying, "So much for love."

To this, she stood up again, towering over Aslan.

She addressed her followers now, "Tonight, the Deep Magic will be appeased. But tomorrow, we will take Narnia forever!" Her people cheered, and all it did was make Peter feel cold and terrified. He was shaking.

"Aslan, I am so sorry," Peter whispered softly. He knew Aslan could not hear him, but it did not matter. "So sorry."

"With that knowledge, despair," Jadis addressed Aslan now. She held her stone knife in the air. Peter desperately wanted to look away or close his eyes. He could not.

Aslan's breathing increased; the fear was evident in him.

"And die!"

Aslan looked right at Peter with great despair, his eyes desperate and alone. Peter did not ever see Jadis bring the knife down. He only watched Aslan as the fatal blow landed. Aslan's eyes went huge and full of pain for only a moment. A terrible grunt left him.

Then slowly, Aslan shut his eyes, and he died only seconds later.

Peter felt like he was going to pass out right there.

"No, Aslan, no," Peter said quietly. Aslan was dead before him. It was all too much. His vision blurred with tears.

"The Great Cat is dead!" She yelled to the cheers of her followers.

Peter's vision swirled, and his eyes were met with a blinding white light before being settled back to Jadis's throne room. She was still next to him. Her fingers had left his temple but still hung close.

_Oh, Aslan_, was all Peter could think to himself. Tears were barely kept inside. Aslan endured so much for them. He had been terribly killed. Peter was grateful that Aslan had come back, but knowing what Aslan had experienced was truly awful. He sniffled as he got his bearings back.

He was still trapped in this castle. Still trapped with her. But this time, he could not tell himself the vision he just saw was not real. Aslan had died alone by her hands. That was forever true, and Peter never knew what he had gone through.

Jadis smiled at him before saying, "Now, you have learned." His distress was plainly on his face, and she just chuckled. "Know that when I take Narnia, I'll make you watch as I execute every one of your precious siblings just as I did to Aslan."

Peter instinctively pulled away, and she just leaned closer. "I'll start with your sister, Susan. Now, she will put on a brave face, I am sure. She will cry, but desperately look to you to save her."

She did not even need to place her fingers to his face for him to see a flash of this imagined execution. Susan was bound with ropes, and she held her head up, strong and brave. But her eyes locked with Peter, pleading despair was there. Jadis brought her knife down, plunging through Susan's chest. Susan gasped before toppling over.

Peter's eyes were wide when he saw the throne room again. Tears were building up. _It's not real. It's not real_.

"Then I'll kill Edmund. And you know that I will make his death slow. I'll make him suffer terribly, and when I have had my fun, I'll slay him right on the Stone Table as I should have years ago."

Again, Peter saw a similar image of Aslan's sacrifice, with the exception of Edmund being there. He was beaten and small, far too small. He was tied to the Stone Table. Jadis laughed, as he twisted against the ropes that held him. Edmund had tears staining his cheeks. He was not looking at Jadis though. He was only looking at Peter.

"Peter, I'm sorry," were the only words Edmund said. Jadis brought the knife down, stabbing Edmund right in the heart.

Peter shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut._ It's not real_.

"And last, I'll take your little sister from you, and Lucy will be sobbing. She will be pleading with you to save her. She even will call for Aslan. But he isn't coming to save any of them. He is not even coming for you now. I'll cut her throat for all of Narnia to watch."

Lucy was suddenly begging him to save her, "Peter, please, help me!" A sob broke out of her mouth. "Aslan, don't let me die, we need your help!"

"He was never going to save you," Jadis said from behind her. To that, she sliced her throat right in front of him.

Peter was back in the throne room. _It's not real. It's not real_.

_It's not real but it could be_. 

That was the only thought that was needed to make a few tears slip down his cheeks. Trying to take regulating breaths, he was attempting to keep his composure, especially in front of Jadis of all people.

"And when I am finished with them, you will be a slave by my side for all eternity. We shall have an eternal winter once more, and you will never die," Jadis promised.

Peter shook his head. He needed to get away from her. He could not remain with her much longer at all, let alone all of eternity.

"Killing you would be easy," she told him. "Once you brought me back, I could have killed you." And he knew she was right. "But then, you would not know true suffering."


	10. The Search Continues

One of the worst parts about the journey to where Peter was attacked was receiving word that no one had found him yet.

It had been about two days since they left the Cair and almost a third day since they had found out he had been attacked. He could have been missing for another day or so, but they did not know for certain. All Susan wanted to do was go home with both of her brothers.

She also secretly wanted to let someone else deal with the aftermath of Peter's attack too, but she knew could not do that. She also knew she was not going to let Edmund see it all by himself. Edmund might carry himself like a wise young man, but he was still fifteen. Susan hated that Peter was exposed to such bloodshed, and the two of them tried to keep their younger siblings out of it as much as they could.

Susan could not help but think that this was a perfect instance that Peter would know what to do. If it was one of them unaccounted for, he would take control of the situation. He would know how to find them while keeping a level head. Granted, once he found whoever it was, he would be a mess like the rest of them.

But they were not Peter.

Edmund was twisting in his nerves. The two-day journey only made it worse. Susan kept by him when they slowed for rest or even when they stopped entirely. He was worse when they were not moving.

Quiet and trapped in his own head, he would wave her off when she expressed concern.

"We need to focus on Peter," he would say. While he was correct, it was not in Susan's nature to neglect any of her siblings.

She coaxed him to drink some water and eat some food. She failed at trying to get him to sleep.

But as this new day grew on, her own worries started creeping on her. With Edmund dismissing her focus on him, it forced her to face her own fears about where Peter was and what had happened to him.

She gripped the handle of her horn. It felt nice having a tool to call for help at her fingertips. But her sweet comfort had a dark turn. Peter had no means to call for help, she realized. He was all alone, and that bothered her terribly.

If someone was holding him prisoner, if he was trapped or injured, did he know they were on their way?

_Peter, please, we are coming. Wherever you are, just hold on_, Susan silently sent a prayer to her brother. She hoped to Aslan that Peter knew. Knew that help was coming for him. _Please do not let us be too late._

"My Queen," the small Robin named Ezio landed on her shoulder. She had sent him to reach Oreius and their army in the South.

"Hello, my dear Ezio," Susan said kindly. "How was your flight here?"

"Aslan graced me with kind winds." She held out her hand, and Ezio hopped onto her palm, his little feet tickling her ever so slightly. "I have word from General Oreius."

Susan saw Edmund and Phillip silently pull closer to her to hear Ezio's words.

Ezio delivered his message: "General Oreius bids you a safe journey and pleads you both to use extreme caution." Ezio shifted uncomfortably in her palm before continuing, "He is disappointed to inform that the reports of Witch's army activity in the South had proven significantly smaller than anticipated."

If Southern remnants of Jadis's army were not as numerous as they thought, where were they? She did not like what that meant for them, or more importantly, for Peter. They did not know if it were the Witch's soldiers who attacked Peter, but if some of Jadis's followers were unaccounted for, she was scared where they actually were.

"He and your army were heading back to Cair Paravel when I reached them. He said they head towards you instead," Ezio concluded his message.

"Thank you, Ezio," Susan said. "Please, rest now."

"At your command, my Queen," Ezio said as he bowed. He then bowed to Edmund. "King Edmund." Ezio fluttered off to Lieutenant Berkeley's shoulder, resting easily there.

Susan looked to Edmund; his brow was furrowed in thought. He paled incredibly. Captain Ver approached Susan and Edmund cautiously.

"Your majesties?" She asked.

Susan only kept looking at Edmund for a moment more before she said, "General Oreius will be supplying us with reinforcements when he can reach us. Until then, we cannot tarry. We must find King Peter."

Captain Ver offered her a reassuring nod before calling out to their troop, "You heard our Queen. We leave in five minutes!" Captain Ver left them to oversee this, Susan presumed.

This just left Edmund and Susan.

"Susan," Edmund finally looked at her now. Fear and uncertainty filled his typically sure eyes. "Susan, what does that mean for Peter? If our intelligence reports were wrong in the South, what happened to Peter?"

He suddenly looked closer to his age for once. He was looking to her for guidance. She had the same fears and similar thoughts. But she steeled herself the best she could. Edmund needed her.

"We will find out," Susan reassured, trying to sound confident and sure.

"If someone went through the trouble of misleading our scouts, they could have wanted something from him," Edmund concluded.

_Or they just wanted to kill him_. Susan's mind responded back. She did not dare to say that aloud.

"Peter's alive," Susan said almost confidently before quietly adding, "He has to be."

\--------------------------------------------------- 

Time slowed down as they arrived where Peter and his guard were attacked. Edmund looked around; the bodies of the soldiers who died protecting Peter had long been removed. But there had been no rains to wash the blood and gore away. The place reeked of death, and that made Edmund feel incredibly heartbroken.

They were all people Edmund knew. They all would have died to keep Peter out of harm's way, and they paid that price with their lives. The entire area was crisp and dead. The grass was dry and rotten. It looked like no one had lived there for many years, which surprised Edmund because it was not true. This area in the Western Woods was supposed to be lively and occupied. It was neither of those things.

Bralen came over, a hound dog of many years of tracking. He was sniffing around, attempting to find Peter's scent to track. There was silence around them. Nothing was alive anywhere near this battleground.

Lieutenant Kelo had been one in the patrol that found the bodies. He had remained in the area to secure it and to take care of the dead. Kelo came over to them, giving Susan and Edmund a bow.

"Your majesties," he addressed. "We had found the bodies of King Peter's guard three days ago. King Peter was not among them."

"Do you have any idea of what happened here?" Susan asked. She was putting on a brave face, braver than he could at the moment.

"Based on how this area looked, I would say they were ambushed. Severely outnumbered, it would appear. The High King and his guard manage to slay a handful of them."

"Do you have any indication of where he might be?" Susan inquired as she looked about. She seemed as revolted as Edmund was at the scene.

"We sent scouts in every direction we could, but we are having difficulties in tracking King Peter."

"What do you mean?" Edmund was the one to ask this.

"The High King's trail ends here, your majesty," Bralen said softly as he approached.

For a quick moment, panic swelled in Edmund, a cold chill trickled down his chest and rested in his heart. Why would the trail end here? Did that mean Peter was—

Before his mind could finish that awful thought, "No matter if King Peter was alive or—" Bralen cut his voice off. Looking sadly at Edmund and Susan before ignoring the word entirely, "We should have been able to find him all the same. It is as if he vanished in thin air."

Captain Ver nodded in the observation, before she said, "Do you feel it, your majesties? The dark magic here is almost suffocating." She looked at them, waiting. Susan and Edmund glanced at each other with uncertainty before he started to observe his surroundings. He looked at the ground before taking a breath.

At first, he had thought the suffocating feeling had come from Peter being missing solely, but as he took a moment to calm down slightly, he knew Captain Ver had been correct. There was a weight around this place, and it was not just from the dead. The trees were shriveled, abandoned. Just in this clearing of trees, there was a circle-like musk surrounding the edges. Even the grass was a frail, brown state only around this area.

He could only assume these were the effects Captain Ver was pointing out.

If such dark magic left such a trace on this patch of land, then the caster had to have used an enormous amount of magic, Edmund realized. If they had wanted to prevent them from tracking Peter, they had succeeded, for the time being.

"Someone went through a great deal of trouble to hide their tracks," Edmund said. Suddenly, a new uncomfortable shift took hold of his stomach, as he was rather afraid to know who was powerful enough to cause this kind of effect.

What did this mean for Peter? Who and why would they want to take him? What were they doing to him now? If his attackers had gone to the trouble of hiding where they had gone, Peter had to be alive, right? What did all of this mean?

Lieutenant Berkeley's words shook him from the rapid spiral that would have overtaken his thoughts.

"I'll send our scouts to look for new clues further ahead," Berkeley said. He gave one concerned glance at Edmund before leaving to do that.

Susan took Edmund's hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. Although she had a rather convincing mask to conceal her true emotions from their soldiers, Edmund saw how frightened she was. And if she looked like that, then he was certain he looked far worse to her. She could always read him, even when he did not want her to.

If they could not track Peter, it meant he could be anywhere, save for the direction they just came in. They had scouts all over Narnia looking too. Why had no one found Peter yet? It made Edmund uncomfortable.

But they had to do something. He was not going to wait around. He could not.

"We are going to split our forces in three," Edmund decided almost quietly. With all of their attention on him, he grew more confident in himself. "Captain Ver, you will take a third of our troops with you and head West from here. You will send scouts ahead of you as you search."

"Yes, your majesty."

"And Susan," she nearly startled. "You will take Lieutenant Berkeley with you to head South with your third, and I will be going North."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Here is the next round of chapters! There is a warning in the beginning of one of the chapters, please be advised and read it before reading that chapter.
> 
> Thank you for the support!


	11. Castle Walls

As soon as they had split up, Edmund hated that he had suggested it. Not that it was an inefficient way of searching for Peter, it was probably the best tactic. But he hated that Susan was not there with him anymore. After travelling for a few hours, he really missed her. Her worry had distracted him; her demeanor kept him calm. Well, calmer.

Without her, he was feeling the entire effects of his worry alone. Phillip tried to talk to him, tried to ease his concern, but by the time they had travelled for almost an entire day North without a trace of Peter, Edmund's stomach was in knots, and he could not shake the feeling that they needed to go faster. Granted, they did not tarry, but Edmund had the feeling that Peter was running out of time. He had no facts to support it, yet he felt it in his very soul.

The only moment when he lost all spirit in finding Peter was when they reached almost the day mark in their journey North. Because as he rode on Phillip's back, he was becoming more aware of where they were, and most importantly, what lied ahead on the path in front of them.

Because as soon as they reached the ridge of the White Witch's castle, Edmund thought he was going to be pass out. This impending dread encompassed Edmund, surrounded him. Seeing the castle, even as run down as it was, still made Edmund feel hollow inside. When he last entered that place, he was a different person. The last time, the White Witch was alive, trying to kill him and his siblings.

Edmund only noticed he was shaking when Phillip gently called his name. Phillip's voice nudged him out of his stupor, but did not shake Edmund's fixation on the castle itself. Edmund did not think he was capable of entering that castle once more, despite the growth he had as a person over the last five years. Because in that castle, there were only terrible memories and awful betrayals.

"What are your orders, my King?" Kelo asked from his left. "Do you want us to check inside the castle?"

Edmund closed his eyes. He remembered everything about entering that godforsaken castle. Every statue, every feeling, it just reminded him of the awful person he used to be. The person he tried every day not to be once more.

But, he could not just leave without checking the place for Peter. If someone had taken Peter in there, Edmund would never forgive himself if they did not check inside first. He would not admit this aloud to his soldiers, maybe he could to his siblings, but he was afraid to go inside. Terrified of tearing open that wound once more, horrified to remember some of his worst moments. The moments he had decided to betray his siblings. He shuddered.

Instead, he elected to send two scout birds inside to investigate.

The entire time, Edmund was nervous, unable to really speak to anyone. His worst fear would be for Peter to be in there. He breathed relief when his scouts returned with the news that the castle was empty.

"There is no one in the castle," Ari told him. "Though, it is the most unnatural place. I could still feel the White Witch's magic even after all this time." Uven, the other scout, agreed with her.

Edmund did not like this sentiment at all. However, he felt that as King, he needed to reassure his soldiers. They had no reason to fear the White Witch anymore than he did. He took a steadying breath before he spoke.

"Aslan defeated her himself," Edmund assured. "All that remains are just remnants of her power." He paused before adding, "Thank you for going inside for me."

"Always, King Edmund," Uven said. The two little birds fluttered off him to rest. Edmund's eyes never left that castle.

It did not look the same, but they were right, the place still felt like _her_. He felt cold. Unsteady once more.

"Ari," Edmund called after her, as his mind was formulating his thoughts.

"Yes, my King?" She came back to him hastily.

"Could you stay here and keep an eye on the castle?" Edmund was not sure why he was asking. He had just assured his people that the White Witch was gone. But he could not shake his gut feeling that something was wrong with her castle. His precautionary side forced him to ask Ari to stay.

A wonderful aspect of being a King was that no one asked him to explain himself. He did not have to justify his instinct to leave Ari there. Not one did. They all trusted him, including Ari herself.

"Certainly, your majesty," Ari agreed with a bow.

"I'll leave Sunny with you as well," Edmund offered. "Thank you for staying here."

The two birds bowed to him, and Edmund felt some relief. He trusted the two birds to find him if anything was amiss. He knew they would.

With a piece of calmness, he was able to proceed with his search for Peter.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Peter was shackled across his wrists, detached from the chair he sat on. A cup of water was handed to him. In a moment of frustration, despite how thirst clawed at his throat, Peter chucked the cup of water at the guards in front of him; the water splashed against them and the iced ground.

He was tired of this. He wanted to go home. He did not want to keep dealing with the White Witch, and this was exactly what this was. He knew that as soon as he drank water, he would be brought to her.

He knew he needed to hold out a little longer. _They are coming for you_, he reminded himself. As a bit of calm touched him, it did not change what he had done, and one of the ogres, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and slammed him into one of the walls of his cell.

The ogre's arm kept Peter pinned to the wall as it snarled at him. It picked up its jagged sword and plunged it into the back of Peter's shoulder.

Peter screamed in pain, as the ogre twisted the sword around. He thrashed against his hold only to finally have one of the other guards pull the ogre off. Peter collapsed to the ground, shaking violently.

The pain erupted everywhere, and the wound stung.

After what felt like too long of Peter's shallow breaths and him lying on the ground, Jadis appeared by his side. He flinched when she grabbed a hold of his arm.

"What happened?" she asked. She began to heal Peter's shoulder. Peter jolted from the spell, feeling too weak to do anything more than take it.

Peter did not hear their responses, but he did vaguely see her slash her blade across the ogre who had stabbed him. The ogre collapsed to the ground. One of the other guards dragged that ogre away.

As Peter's trembling slightly subsided to the typical tremors of fear, she hoisted him up to his feet. He was surprised by his legs' weakness. He almost fell over immediately.

She shoved him back into his chair. He landed hard, and he suddenly did not have the energy to fight. He just wanted to sleep. Preferably, in his own bed at the Cair, but he was not picky. Instead, Jadis ordered one of her guards to fetch water. When the one returned with it, she held out the cup in offering to Peter.

"No," was all Peter could do to refuse. He shook his head.

"What did I tell you about rebellion, my little king?" She asked.

"You'll just have to kill me then," Peter said. "You are already starving me to death. Might as well add in dehydration."

"You do not seem to understand, Peter. I will be keeping you alive, whether you want to be or not. Therefore, you will drink."

"The answer is no," Peter said.

He should have known it was not a choice. But he just wanted to be left alone. Instead, the next moments of his life were unnecessarily painful.

"Hold him," Jadis ordered.

Two of her guards came over, and Peter weakly fought their claws before they held him to the seat. A third came over, yanking his head back by his hair with their other hand around his throat.

Jadis came over with the cup, and Peter jolted in their hold. They just held him tighter.

"Open your mouth." His response was struggling in their grasp. He kept his teeth gritted shut. She just looked infuriated.

That was when she pinched his nose. All the air left him. He squirmed in their hold, desperate for air.

"Open your mouth, and I will let you breathe." He tried to hold out as long as he could until his head felt like it was going to explode, and his face red.

Finally, he had to open his mouth. Surprisingly, she allowed him to get a panted breath in before she poured the water down his throat. When his mouth was full, she covered his mouth with her hand to keep him from spitting it out.

Despite trying not to, he had to swallow, and therefore, he gave in.

They finally released him, and Jadis just smirked, as he gasped for air. He choked and panted out breaths.

"All of that could have been avoided if it were not for your own actions," she warned. When he could regulate his breathing once more, he glared up at her.

Following this, Jadis brought him out in the throne room and stabbed him a few more times in front of her followers.

After what felt like a short respite in his cell, Jadis and her minions once again visited Peter.

Over the next day, it would only take one more time of being violently forced to drink water for him to stop fighting against it. Granted, even then, she still forced him to drink once more before she stopped forcing it. He lost all will to protest in that regard.

The next time they brought him water, he just drank the cup and did not fight. He hardly fought when they dragged him to the throne room once more. This time, her followers beat him until he could not take it anymore. He pleaded with Jadis to stop.

She did not.

As he brought back to his cell and chained once more, he realized he needed to act. He needed to escape, for he was afraid he would lose himself if he did not.

They blindfold him again and a cloth in his mouth. Other than that, they left him alone to recover.

He could not take it anymore. He felt his own will to fight, to resist, slipping. He needed to get out of here before she hurt him any further.

He was drained and injured. Anymore of this, and he did not think he would have the strength to escape. He needed to do this now.


	12. A Cruelty Unmatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This is the most intense chapter in the entire story and may not be suitable for all readers. **
> 
> **While not graphic like the prior chapter that required a warning, this chapter is much more intense, and I urge precaution. This is the last chapter that requires a warning in the entire story.**
> 
> **Proceed with caution. **

After passing out from Jadis inflicting painful stabs throughout his body, Peter barely had a respite when he woke up to water being splashed on him. It startled him awake.

At first, the splash made him breathless, but mostly, it just made him bitterly cold. He noticed he was still in the throne room. He had only passed out momentarily. Quickly, the cloth was taking out of his mouth. He expected to feel more pain. Instead, Jadis just spoke to him.

"Do you know why I like having you around, Peter, dear?" Peter did not even have a chance to answer before she claimed, "Because you are so unlike the Narnians you rule. Certainly, you are different from your siblings. That was evident when you led the army against me yourself."

"It is what needed to be done," Peter said rather uncomfortably.

He typically blushed and shifted the conversation away from that aspect of the battle whenever it came up. His people seemed to want to glorify it. They did not know how afraid he had been. They did not know how much Edmund and Oreius had steadied him. They did not know how much he did not know what he was doing. All he did was lead the charge. This time, he just felt uncomfortable with her presence and her words.

"Ah, but only you were in the front. Where was Edmund?"

"I kept him in the back, and before you try to twist that into some distorted version of the truth, he nearly died to stop you. You can keep any other version to yourself."

"You seem awful defensive," she pointed out. "Are you trying to prove it to me or yourself?"

"I am just tired of you trying to play mind games with me."

"All I have done is speak the truth to you. How you take it is your own fault." There was something savagery about her tone. She loved how much she was messing with Peter, he could tell by the way her voice twisted and held delight. It revolted him.

"Can you leave me alone?" Peter asked, eagerly wishing for her to give him some break from her.

Something shifted in her demeanor. Her cruel playfulness vanished in a matter of moments. Peter could not even register the new threat from this change before she grabbed a hold of his throat.

Peter's breath caught in his throat. He pulled against his restraints, but he was nowhere near where her fingers were wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air.

"Do not take my calmness in speaking with you give you any false pretenses of what this is. You are my prisoner, and you will spend the rest of your days as such."

To that, she released his throat. He gasped for air. Her guards switched the chains holding him on the chair to shackles, as he was trying to breathe. The most protest he gave was weakly pushing their claws away until they bullied their way past his defenses. The shackles were on him in moments.

Once he was secure, Jadis grabbed a hold of his hair, pulling him to his feet. He tried to pry her fingers away, but her grip remained in tact.

"Follow me," she ordered. She released him, walking towards her throne. She was a bit of a distance from him.

He was left standing. Carefully, he eyed the exit. None of her guards were blocking the way out He was as steady as he was going to be on his feet. He just needed to get outside, he told himself. He could get help once he did.

Without waiting any further, he ran as fast as he could.

"After him," he heard Jadis order from behind him. It did not slow his pace. He bolted as fast as his exhausted body could carry him. "Do not allow him outside."

He followed the hallway until the grand doors that led outside were right in front of him. He did not even hesitate.

With all of his strength, he shoved them open the doors and pushed them close right behind him. The fresh Narnian air hit him immediately. It filled him with a vigor he had almost lost.

He wasted no time. He began his trudge through her courtyard as quickly as he could. He stumbled and tripped but as long as he could get further away from her, it did not matter the renewal of his injuries.

He was making good progress through her courtyard; he could see the ridge to the forest in front of him. It was only a few hundred yards out. He could make it.

That was when he heard it.

A whistling came from behind him, and he felt a sharp pain pierce him right in the back between his shoulder blades. He cried out in pain. It felt like whatever had stabbed him was deep within his skin. He collapsed to the ground. Every movement hurt the new injury.

It did not stop Peter from crawling. He shifted his arms, clawing himself forward. He heard Jadis and her followers approaching. He was desperate.

As he was crawling, he saw a tall shadow appear over him. He knew it was Jadis.

She just laughed as she reached down, placing her foot on his back, holding him in place.

"You are never going to escape me," she reassured. She yanked the blade out. Peter cried out. "Take him back inside."

"No!"

A centaur grabbed a hold of him, flinging him over his shoulder. Peter flailed against him, despite the pain in his back.

"Let me go!" Peter desperately pleaded.

It did not matter. As they neared the castle, Peter clawed and fought to get out of the centaur's hold. When he was within the castle walls, the door shut behind them, sealing his fate.

Peter froze when the doors shut. The finality was daunting. He had failed. He could not get out. And that realization hurt him terribly. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He was trapped.

But Jadis was not done with him yet. The centaur brought Peter back into the throne room.

"Fetch chains," Jadis ordered coolly. She was radiating a calmed fury. It was terrifying.

Once the chains were retrieved, Peter fought as they shoved him on the chair he was previously on. They chained his wrists and ankles. They also chained him across his torso, keeping his back pinned to the chair. Another chain came around his neck, preventing him from even moving his head too much. They tore open the top of his shirt, exposing his collarbone.

Peter fidgeted under the restraints; Jadis just seemed pleased.

She was handed a jagged dagger from one of her followers.

"You seem to fail to comprehend the permanence of your situation," Jadis said calmly. "Allow me to make sure you never forget that you are mine."

Peter pulled on his restraints, as she neared him.

"No, please, don't," Peter pleaded, as she placed the tip of the dagger to his collarbone.

"How else will you learn, dear one?"

With that, she pressed in and cut down. Peter screamed in pain. Tears left his eyes as she curved her blade across his collarbone.

When she was finally done, Peter felt the blood dripping from his new wound. Tears were dripping down his cheeks. It was done.

It was not until the guards unchained him and dragged him to his cell did he see what the damage truly was.

Jadis followed close to him. He was chained on the chair in his cell once more. This time, he was placed in front of a glassy sheet of ice. He could see his reflection nearly perfectly. Once the guards left, it was just Jadis and him in the room.

Only after the guards had gotten out of the way, he could see what she had done to him. A desperate sob almost left him.

As the two of them stared at his reflection in the mirror, she leaned in next to his ear, whispering, "Now, everyone will see that you are mine forever." Peter could not stop the shudder that left him.

He could not hide from it now. It was carved into his skin. His wound was pulsing red and deep. It would surely scar. Just like she wanted it to.

The bloody, puffed letters were carved: _ JADIS_


	13. Shattered Hope

Sadly enough, Susan was distressed that they had found no trace of Peter. At all. Not even a trail.

They had been riding South for a day now. All Susan wanted to do is go back to home. Find Peter, safe, and bring him back. She could only imagine what was happening to him. Unfortunately, there was not much time to talk amongst her soldiers and her. Therefore, there was plenty of time for her internal thoughts to conjure the worst possible means of what was happening to her beloved brother.

She just hoped they found him soon. It had been days since he was attacked. Only Aslan knew what he was going through, and Susan would not even allow her brain to try to process the possibility of him being dead. She could not bear it. Instead, she sent a silent prayer to Aslan for her to find him and for Aslan's protection.

Almost as if Aslan was answering her directly, Bralen stopped in his tracks. His head peaked up; he looked around. He spoke nothing. It made her uneasy.

"My good cousin, what is it?" Susan asked as she pulled next to him. She was looking at him as his nose twitched.

"I have a faint scent," Bralen announced. He sniffed in the air before confirming, "It is the High King's!" Bralen took off, charging ahead. Susan beckoned her horse and her fellow soldiers to follow him.

_Peter!_

Her heart was caught in her throat, her stomach in knots. _Hang on, Peter, we are coming_. Bralen raced as fast as he could. Susan and her troop trailed closely behind. He bended and twisted around corners, and soon, they were a few miles from where they were when he caught the scent.

He halted in a gouge, looking around, sniffing. Susan looked around. The gouge was deserted. There was no one here. Not Peter, not even the indication that he was. There were just trees and a few small animals that had been startled by their sudden approach.

A fearful doubt pressed in her chest. She was afraid of what they were going to find. She was afraid that they would not find anything.

"He is here," Bralen insisted. Hope sparked in her heart. _Please, be Peter. Please, let me find him alive here_. Bralen's nose pressed to the ground. Susan dismounted off Dawn, gently patting her nose as she went to Bralen's side.

He was leading her passed the nearby trees to some brush that covered the roots of a tree. Her heart hitched as Bralen stopped at its foot. His nose sticking in the brush, his paw pealed the brush aside.

"I am so sorry, Queen Susan," Bralen said quietly to her, for it was not Peter they found.

Instead, she saw a glimpse of red and gold on the hilt of a sword. The sword was coated with old blood that had not been cleaned. But she would recognize this sword anywhere. Despite its misshapen appearance, it was Rhindon, Peter's beloved sword.

She knew he would have never parted ways with it willingly. It was Father Christmas's gift to him. It was one of his most treasured possessions.

Susan's entire hopes sank as she saw the truth spelled out on his sword. There was blood splattered on the blade and on his hilt. The ambush that Kelo had speculated must have been the truth, and based on the condition of Peter's sword, he had given every single thing he had to protect himself and his guards.

_Oh, Peter, where are you?_ Susan asked herself. She reached down, carefully picking up Rhindon with a gloved hand.

Someone had discarded Peter's sword here. Someone went out of their way to place this sword here. Whether that meant Peter was close to them or somewhere must further, she did not know. All she knew was that she was not going to give up. She would give Peter back his sword. She would find him.

She was never going to give up until she found him.

\---------------------------------------------------

The Witch left him alone. And he could not stop staring at the words. _Jadis_. It would forever be on his skin. He was hers. She had scarred him.

His breathing escalated, accelerating as he looked away in shame. It was only a moment later he was staring once again.

The tears boiled right over. A shaking sob left him.

_I can't do this, I can't do it_, Peter thought to himself. The tears kept coming. She carved into him. She left her mark on him.

It was not long before he was weeping. He was feeling all of it. All the turmoil he had suppressed for the days of captive.

His whole body heaved with every sob that left him. It was all too much.

He tried. He tried to escape. And look what happened. Staring back in his reflection was the consequences of his actions.

He cried for hours. Most of it was sobbing. He could not take it anymore. He was breaking down with every passing moment.

When he finished sobbing, he was numb and exhausted. Every inch of him was screaming in pain. With the last bit of his capacity spent on tears, he passed out into a terrible sleep.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

When they came for him again, he was already awake. They handed him water, and he drank it without protest.

As they started unchaining and shackling him, he quietly pleaded, "Please, just leave me alone." They did not. They placed the shackles on his raw wrists.

They grabbed him by the arms, leading him to the throne room again. He just slowly walked beside them. When they were back in the throne room, Jadis was waiting for him.

He took an instinctively step back before her guards held onto him, forcing him forward.

Jadis strolled over to him, saying, "We have much to do."

"No, please," Peter quietly replied.

She brushed his cheek, making him avert his eyes.

"But Peter, there is so much we have to learn from each other," she said. The guards readjusted their firm grip on him. She placed her hand on his cheek, despite his pull away from her. "Let me show you." Her fingers touched his temple.

He was now on the battlefield of Beruna. He heard the sounds of screams and swords clashing. He would always be haunted by this day.

He saw himself, fighting a minotaur. He was so young. It was odd to see himself fighting in this battle. But it was not his younger self that caught his eye. Peter was standing in the middle of the battlefield where he saw Jadis coming towards his younger self. The movement above the rocks was what drew his attention.

Despite being smaller than he was now, Edmund was still quick, and here he was running as fast as he could towards the White Witch.

"No, Edmund!" Peter shouted.

Edmund kept his pace. He ran with his sword flailing in the air. His little legs moving barely fast enough to keep up with his heart.

Peter had understood the protectiveness that Edmund had experienced in this moment. Peter always felt it when one of his siblings was in danger. It did not change how devastating this act was to behold. Then and now.

With a valiantly yell, Edmund dropped down from the rocks, and after a quick parry, he smashed his sword down on Jadis's wand. A blue light scattered across their vision.

They were all dazed for a moment. But Jadis was quicker. She was always quicker. She recovered, maneuvering the sword right out of his hand.

"Edmund!" Peter yelled with his younger self when Edmund was stabbed.

It did not matter that he knew Edmund survived the injury. It was still witnessing one of the worst moments of Peter's life again.

Edmund let out a painful gasp, and just as it had on the day it happened, time slowed down. Edmund stared ahead. Peter's heart stopped as it did then.

With a thud, Edmund hit the ground.

All around the battlefield, everyone disappeared. No Narnians, no Jadis's forces, no Jadis, and Peter's younger self vanished.

It was just Edmund lying on the ground. Edmund's wheezing was heard all the way from where Peter stood. He was gasping for air. Peter found that he could run to him.

Crouched beside him, Peter took one of Edmund's hands.

"Edmund," he began, as Edmund began choking. "No, no," Peter whimpered. Edmund was staring at him, desperation in his eyes. "No, Lucy saves you." His voice barely a whisper. "Lucy saves you."

It did not change that Peter was watching Edmund convulse in front of him. Edmund choked until he could no more and died holding onto Peter's hand.

"It's not real," Peter whispered to himself weakly. He closed his eyes.

"You're right," Jadis's voice tickled his ear. The vision changed back to the throne room. She was standing close to him, a smirk on her face. "He did not die that day, but—" she reached up, wiping one of Peter's tears off his cheek, much to his discomfort, before continuing, "It does not change the pain such a memory causes."

Peter sniffled as she walked behind him. He just stared ahead, no longer trying to follow her movements.

"You know, Peter, I have plenty of memories of my time with Edmund. I am certain you want to see." She came in front of him, reaching towards his face.

"No, stop!"

For once, she did.

"Please," Peter said. "I don't want to see anymore."

"I know you don't," she said.

Then she touched his temple once more.


	14. Truths Discovered

After watching Jadis whip Edmund in the back for moving too slowly when her sled was stuck in mud, Peter silently pleaded with Aslan to make these visions stop. Make it all stop.

More tears dripped off his cheeks. Edmund should have never had to deal with that. Most certainly, not at the age of eleven.

Peter remembered the first time he had seen Edmund's scars. He put on a brave face for Edmund, comforting him the best he could. Peter himself cried about it for hours after. Until Edmund had found him and the two of them worked through their guilt and grief of their first adventure in Narnia.

Actually witnessing Edmund's suffering resurfaced the pain he had thought he had grieved. Edmund had been bound by the wrists and forced to walk far too long for a child. But like how she was with Peter, Jadis was cruel, and it did not matter that Edmund was a child. Her brutality touched him as painfully as it hurt Peter.

When they finally returned from her memory, she proposed, "How about another one?" She seemed to relish in the way Peter shrank back, shaking his head. "No? I have another idea then."

_Please, let this be bearable_, Peter silently begged.

"I have questions, and you shall tell me the answers." Peter opened his mouth to detest, but she placed a finger to his lips to silence him. His eyes widened, and he froze at her closeness. "Fail to answer truthfully and I will share more memories with you. Do you understand?"

She pulled her finger away, waiting.

Peter averted his eyes, as he contemplated his lack of options. He simply nodded.

"Very well," she said, taking a step back. "As High King, you have authority over all other Kings and Queens?"

He did not like the implications of that question, but he nodded.

"Speak the answers aloud, little king," Jadis ordered.

"Yes, I have the authority." He was grateful when she moved on.

"How old are you now?"

"Eighteen."

"And your siblings?"

"Why do you care?" Peter spat. An invisible sharp pain pinched his side. Peter yelped. "Okay, okay," Peter whispered. "Susan is seventeen, Edmund's fifteen, and Lucy is thirteen. Why do you want to know?"

She ignored his question as she asked, "How long does it take from your palace to mine?"

"A few days," Peter replied bitterly.

"Be more specific."

"Four days," Peter answered.

"And three, if you make haste," she concluded. She was right. He did not indicate one way or the other. "When you go to war, which of your siblings come with you?"

"That depends on the battle we are entering."

"For instance?"

He did not know how to answer the question. He did not want to tell her the different circumstances that would bring all four of them out on a battlefield. Certainly, they all had been in battles. Edmund mostly would be there with him. Other times, it was Susan, and on one occasion, it was just him and Lucy. That never was a repeated affair.

Peter shifted uncomfortably. Peter deviated the answer quietly, "Mostly, it would be Edmund."

"And how many soldiers do you have in your army?"

"I don't know."

"You do not lie very well," Jadis noticed.

"I honestly don't know."

"As commander of the Narnian army and High King, you are going to pretend you do not know how many soldiers serve in your army?"

Another sharp pain stabbed him. Peter shook his head. He knew the answer. He did. Five thousand Narnians were in his current army. Another four thousand were called upon in wartime.

He knew the answer but could not tell her. The other bits of information were vague enough that it would not betray anyone. Telling her soldier counts was too far.

"Perhaps, we have taken too long of a break from these memories."

"No, I don't want to see anymore. Just ask me something else."

"I have asked you this question."

"I cannot answer it, please. Something else."

"I am afraid that is not how this works."

No, Peter did not want to keep seeing her torturing his brother.

"Please." All she did was come from behind him, grabbing the tied cloth that rested on his collarbone. "No, no," was all he whimpered as he shook his head. He hated having that in his mouth. His protests did not derail her. She shoved the cloth tightly between his teeth. With a terrible defeat, she retightened the cloth around his head.

His breathing came out rapid and inconsistent. She came back to his front before she cupped his cheek. He whimpered out a response before another memory of her abusing his brother came over his eyes.

\---------------------------------------------------------

"King Edmund!" Kelo called over. "You will want to hear this."

As Edmund and Phillip went over to the huddle of officers, he saw Ari on Kelo's shoulder. "Lieutenant, what is it?" Edmund asked.

Before Kelo could answer, Ari fluttered her wings as she exclaimed, "I saw King Peter!" Excitement and terror filled her tone.

Edmund's heart almost stopped. _Peter!_ This was what he had wanted to hear for days now, any news of Peter. Tears welded into his eyes. He blinked them back.

"Where?" He barely managed to ask.

"The White Witch's castle."

"No, that cannot be possible. We sent scouts in there. There was no one there. We—" Edmund stopped himself. Not there, of all places.

"I saw him, your majesty. I swear it. I saw him run from there. He was trying to escape," Ari reassured. She sadly admitted, "I wish I could have helped."

Edmund put his King face on, telling her, "You have done more than enough by delivering this message. What more can you tell about what you saw?"

"Oh, your majesty, you are not going to like this at all," Ari warned. The suspense was killing him.

"Thank you for your concern, but please proceed, I must know."

Ari gave him a nod before gathering the courage it seemed required to speak. Only after she spoke did he understand why.

"Your majesty, the White Witch—she is back. She was there. She was the one who stopped King Peter from escaping."

Edmund almost passed out right there. If it were not for Phillip adjusting a step over to steady him, he would have.

This could not be happening. Not her. Not with him. This nightmare was only getting worse. His vision was blurry, nearly swirling when he heard Kelo call his name.

"King Edmund," Kelo urged softly.

Edmund blinked a few times before steeling himself, just for a few moments. He just needed to be in control to hear the rest of Ari's account. He could process everything after that.

Edmund nodded to Kelo before Phillip asked, "Are you sure it was her?"

"Positively," Ari answered gloomy.

"Her magic would explain why our scouts did not see them inside," Kelo suggested in response.

Edmund did not like how that sounded at all. Instead, he focused forward, for fear that if they continued talking for too much longer, he would pass out or panic. Neither was what he wanted to do in front of his people like this.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Edmund asked her in a quiet voice.

"King Peter seemed quite injured prior to the White Witch stopping him. But she threw a knife into his back. His screams will haunt me for all my days," Ari explained, distress clear on her face. "They dragged him back into the castle after that. I left my second scout there to keep watch over the castle."

Edmund did not know what to do but felt his entire body become warm. _I am definitely passing out_.

Before he did, he knew he had to remain in control for a few more seconds.

"Thank you, Ari, for your message." Edmund then directed his attention to Kelo. "Lieutenant, can you send word to my sisters, General Oreius, and Captain Ver of this change? Tell them we are heading to the castle."

"At once, my King."

"And could you prepare our people to depart?"

"Yes, sire." All of his officers departed to do what needed to be done, leaving just him and Phillip.

"I need ten minutes," Edmund said as he pushed passed Phillip.

Edmund's vision was blurry. He barely staggered to a somewhat secluded area before the tears started pouring out. He slid his back against the nearest tree, holding onto his knees.

She was back. Oh, how many nightmares had been eased with the reassurance that she would never come again?

Edmund did not know what to do. Peter was with her. Peter was trapped with the White Witch. This was only getting worse. And Peter was hurt. _What am I going to do? I cannot face her again_. 

Barely hearing his hooves approaching, he heard Phillip ask for privacy with him from Jatix and Ash who must have been protectively nearby.

Phillip's hooves clucked on the ground until he was over by Edmund. He leaned his face in, nuzzling against Edmund's cheek. Edmund leaned into the touch.

"Phillip," Edmund choked out. "She can't be—she is alive, and Peter—" his breathing rapid and frantic. "I cannot do this, Phillip. I cannot go back in there. Not with her there."

Phillip leaned into him further. His warm and steady face grounded Edmund enough to keep him from a full panic.

When Edmund's breathing calmed a bit, Phillip softly said, "I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now. I am terrified, and I never even met her."

All Edmund could do was nod. He was petrified. This was the White Witch after all. His stomach ached at simply the thought of her. She was the embodiment of cruelty, and she had Peter.

"I always hoped—prayed she would never return," Phillip said. Edmund's tears picked up pace, sliding down his cheeks.

"I cannot face her again," Edmund pleaded, desperately holding onto Phillip's face. "Please, I cannot."

"I wish for you never to have to," Phillip said quietly. "Yet, her presence does not change the fact that Peter needs our help." Edmund sniffled, clutching him tighter. In the gentlest of voices, Phillip continued, "You, of all people, know that if he is with her how urgent that need is."

As terrified as Edmund was, Phillip was right. It pained Edmund terribly to think of. While the White Witch was horribly brutal to him when he was a boy, he was frightened to think of what Peter was enduring.

Days. Peter had been with her for days. Now, they were far too many hours away from where Peter was. A half a day, perhaps. Maybe less.

"Phillip, what has she done to him? He has been with her for days now—"

"Try not to focus on that, Edmund," Phillip nudged him. "All we need to do is rescue Peter. That is our only focus."

"I cannot handle this, Phillip. Why did it have to be her?" Edmund nearly whimpered out.

"Edmund, listen to me," Phillip urged. "Peter needs our help. Your help. You were able to overcome your fears of her when he needed you last time."

"I don't know," Edmund admitted unsurely.

"You faced her last time and won. You will do it again now. I know you can," Phillip encouraged. "We will all help you. You can do this. Peter needs you."

And as Edmund's grip loosened and reality set in, the truth was that Peter did need him, and well, nothing else mattered after that.

Wiping his tears and burying his fears for now, he stood up with the support of Phillip.

_I am coming, Pete, just hold on a little longer_.


	15. Illusions Break Hearts

Every inch of Peter's body ached, as he was dragged back to her throne room. His quiet pleas were entirely ignored. As soon as he reached the throne room, he was thrown down before her.

He did not even have to look at her to feel her unwanted gaze. She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his wobbly feet.

She started with his wrist again, snapping the bone. He screamed in pain, cradling the broken bone. He staggered back.

He did not even see the satyr who swung a hammer right for the side of his knee, shattering the bone again. Peter collapsed, tears sprung out of his eyes, as they crippled his bones.

All he could do was move his shackled hands to conceal his head.

"I grow tired of hearing him cry," Jadis taunted. Peter shook his head, trying to move his broken bones to prevent the dwarf that held a cloth between his hands.

"Please, it makes it hard to breathe," Peter tried to reason before the dwarf tied the cloth between his teeth and around his head.

They then proceeded to break more of his bones. The snaps and cracks were awful sounds to Peter's ears. Even still, he just wished it would be over.

Before long, he could not move any part of himself, not even to protect.

That was when he heard it. The horns. Narnian horns.

Peter tried not to get his hopes up, but as Narnian soldiers burst through the door, his heart soared. Leading the charge were Edmund and Susan.

Edmund went straight for the White Witch with several of their soldiers. Susan came to Peter's side.

"You look terrible!" She exclaimed. She tried to help him move, and he cried out in pain at her touch. "Sorry," she quickly said. Peter could no longer see Edmund, but he heard the clashes of metal. The fighting was still going on. "We need to get you out of here. Can you move?"

Peter sadly shook his head. Almost every bone was broken. He barely could move his head without causing an extreme amount of pain.

"I'll go get someone—"

Susan never finished her claim. She jolted forward, grimacing in pain before she collapsed to the ground. Peter tried to call her name, but no clear version came out.

An axe was stuck in her back. She was dying before him.

"No, Susan!" Peter screamed through the cloth. That was when a head landed in front of his face. It was Edmund's.

Peter screamed and writhed, only causing himself more pain.

His eyes squeezed shut. He had to block it out.

_It is not real; this cannot be real_. 

When he heard the fighting stop, he gathered his courage to open his eyes once more. He had to blink back the tears that were pressed to the surface.

There was no rescue. There were no Narnian soldiers. There was no dead Susan. No dead Edmund. It was all an illusion. A fake. Peter could not take it anymore.

As the illusion faded away, Peter's heart constricted. This final hope was crushed before him. Sobs came out before he could stop it.

He lied there, crying into the iced floor that provided no comfort at all. The gag nearly made it impossible to heavily sob, but Peter managed to do it.

He no longer cared who of them saw. His hope was shattered. He watched the White Witch kill these hopes for freedom as she had destroyed the illusion versions of his siblings.

"The only rescue you will ever see will always be an illusion," Jadis told him.

No one was coming to save him. Peter choked on his sobs. He was going to be trapped here. In a quiet voice, his mind still told him his siblings would find him. It did not change the despair his heart felt.

So even as the White Witch started to mend his bones slowly with an intense pain, he cried for a lot more than just the pain she was inflicting.  
\-------------------------------------------------

Riding back the way they came felt like the longest ride Edmund had ever taken. Every step Phillip took just was a painful reminder that he was going to have to face the White Witch once more. Although they made haste for Peter, Edmund could not help the impending dread that he was experiencing.

The worst thought that found its way to Edmund's mind was asking what she had done to Peter. If Peter had been her prisoner for days, what awful things had she done? What happened to his brother when Edmund was not there to protect him?

The gnawing guilt rested on his bones firmly. As they retraced their steps back to the castle, Edmund kept reminding himself to not focus on the guilt of Peter's capture until they got Peter back.

He prayed to Aslan: both for inner strength and his assistance. He desperately hoped Aslan heard him. Most of all, he asked Aslan to protect Peter. Over and over again, he thought to himself, _please, Aslan, keep Peter safe. Protect him_.

It did not make the journey go any faster, but it did keep Edmund from falling apart.

By the time they did reach the castle, Edmund felt as prepared as he could. When the castle came into view, Edmund froze. He felt like he was eleven years old again, not a king with his trusted soldiers around him. Because just like then, he would have to muster the courage to enter the castle once more. Thankfully, Edmund's reasons this time were significantly more important than before.

His fingers tightened around Phillip's hairs, twisting in them.

_Peter is in there. You have to go in_, he told himself. Peter would charge right in there to save Edmund if the roles were reversed, Edmund knew that. Granted, from what Lucy had told Edmund, Peter tried to go into the castle to save Edmund even the first time. Only Mr. Beaver stopped him.

"You can do this, Edmund," Phillip whispered to him.

As Edmund and his soldiers stopped on the ridge above the slope that led down to the castle's courtyard, Edmund motioned for Phillip to venture forward, only to be stopped when Kelo quietly called for Edmund's attention.

Kelo approached him and suggested, "Your majesty, we should send our scouts inside the castle to locate King Peter and how many await us on the Witch's side."

"Last time we sent scouts, they did not even see Peter," Edmund pointed out.

"We do not know the magic the White Witch is using," Kelo said. "It is better to attempt reconnaissance than to go into this situation blind."

He was right. It was unwise to enter into enemy territory without any reconnaissance. There could be a hundred of Jadis's followers waiting for them. Or there could be two. Granted, there was also the White Witch herself to deal with.

"How long will this take?" Edmund asked, trying to keep the impatience from coming through to his voice. Peter was in danger. The longer they waited, the more time he would have to spend with her.

He must have failed because Kelo hastily responded, "Twenty minutes. Maybe, more if King Peter is hidden somewhere."

Edmund nodded. As much as it killed Edmund to have to wait any longer, he knew it was the smartest strategic move. In any other circumstances, he would be following that way of thinking. But this was about rescuing Peter, and that made most logical thinking fly right away from him in the luckiest of cases.

He beckoned for his bird scouts, and they fluttered over to him. He held Ari, Uven, and Sunny, in his palms. They all shifted nervously in his hands.

He whispered gently, "I know that it is frightening to go in there. But I need you to find my brother for me. He needs us to help him."

Sunny nodded his little head, saying, "My King, it is our honor to serve both you and the High King. We will find him." The three birds all bowed before took off in flight towards the castle.

The three scouts returned in ten minutes, and by their expressions, Edmund dreaded the news they brought.

Ari landed on Edmund's outstretched hand. Sunny and Uven landed on his shoulders. Ari did a small bow before Edmund asked, "My good cousins, what did you find?"

"King Edmund, there are scarcely twenty of the Witch's followers, and the White Witch is in her throne room with them." Ari ruffled her wings, seeming nervous to share more. Twenty to Edmund's seventeen. Those were not favorable odds for him. But that was hardly on Edmund's mind for long.

Anxiously, Edmund almost whispered, "What of Peter?" His voice stripped off formalities.

"Your majesty," Sunny started in a sad voice. For a moment, Edmund felt his heart skip a beat, fearing the worst.

Uven did not meet his eyes, but said, "Your Majesty, King Peter was in the throne room with the White Witch." All three of his scouts seemed almost distraught. "She was—" Uven stopped.

Ari finished his words, speaking as gently as she could, "She was abusing our High King, your majesty."

"It was truly terrible," Sunny agreed softly.

Edmund's stomach dropped, and tears pressed behind his eyes. He wanted to know what exactly was happening to Peter, but was scared to truly know.

"Are they still in the throne room now?" Was all Edmund managed to ask.

"Yes, sire, they were," Ari answered.

"Thank you for flying in there," Edmund whispered to the three of them. "Sunny remain outside the castle, and if we do not return within the hour, fly to Queen Susan."

"Understood, King Edmund," Sunny said as he hopped off Edmund's shoulder. Edmund quickly instructed Ari and Uven to rest until they entered the castle.

_Peter is in the throne room_. Edmund remembered the unkind iced walls. He remembered how cold they were. He still remembered the way the White Witch had nearly killed him in there. He took a steadying breath.

"My good sirs," Edmund began. All eyes locked onto him. "Our High King is in danger. He is trapped inside the White Witch's castle with the White Witch herself standing guard." Edmund's voice trembled at the last part. If his soldiers noticed it, they made no indication to it otherwise. "Our priority is to safely rescue our King. We will cut through the courtyard and head through the front gates. Our High King is with the White Witch now, and we will not let her harm him any further."

Edmund looked around, seeing his trusted soldiers prepared and ready to face the threats that lied ahead. To face the White Witch once more.

With Peter in mind, Edmund and Phillip led the charge down the slope to the castle.


	16. A Rematch

Many miles away from where she had found Rhindon, Susan was surprised when Zet came flying in to see her with an urgency that made her heart rate hasten.

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!" She called. Susan and Dawn stopped in their tracks.

"I am over here, my good Zet," Susan greeted, trying to keep how much she hated the edge in Zet's voice out of her tone. Zet flew over, landing on the back of Dawn's head. Anxiety radiated off her.

"My Queen, King Edmund has located the High King. He is being held captive in the White Witch's castle," Zet quickly informed.

_No, Peter, what are they doing to you there?_ Terror trembled into her bones at the mere thought. She had desperately avoided that place under all circumstances. She only dared to go near it with Peter and Oreius by her side, and that was only to reassure her people that they did not have to fear the castle or the White Witch again. _At least, one of those fears is still abated_, she thought to herself.

As soon as Zet spoke her next words, Susan personally felt like it was the universe's way of punishing her for her previous thought, "Worst of all, Queen Susan, the White Witch herself appears to be the one holding our High King prisoner."

The warmth of the day and the strength of Susan's will drained from her the moment Zet's words finished being said.

_The White Witch!? _Susan's mind took a few extra seconds to process this. She could not be alive. They defeated her. Aslan killed her. _How could she be there to terrorize another one of her brothers? Or to terrorize both of them to tell the truth._

If one of her brothers was suffering, the other one always felt it intensely. They immensely cared for one another. They would do anything to protect the other. This only could mean fool-hearted and desperate plans of rescue.

"Where is Edmund now?"

"He was heading to the Witch's castle to rescue King Peter without delay."

Announcing to her soldiers who were all around her, Susan declared, "Then we shall do the same. Bralen, lead us to the White Witch's castle."

With only taking a few moments to reacquaint with the new direction, Bralen took off slightly north of the direction they had first come from. Dawn and Susan took off to follow.

If Edmund was going to have to deal with the White Witch once more, Susan knew she had to be there. She did not want to leave him alone to face her again. She knew he was not the same boy who had entered her castle all those years ago, but she also knew what this Witch had done to Edmund.

She knew of the nightmares, the dreadful fear, the longing for those memories to go away. She knew how much it would have taken Edmund to gather the courage to go into that castle. The difficulty would have been unimaginable.

She could only think of three reasons on why Edmund would ever venture back into castle, and one of those reasons was trapped inside with his worst enemy.

_Please, be careful until I can get there, Edmund_, Susan thought to herself. _And please, Peter, be alive when we find you._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
As they entered further into the courtyard, Edmund remembered walking through there when it was littered with stone statues. Some had their defiance saved in stone. Others were as frightened as Edmund was now. But now, this courtyard was empty. He had dismounted off Phillip before they ever entered the castle, but Phillip had remained close.

It was far more terrifying than when he was a boy. At least then, he foolishly thought that the Witch was a friend of his. This time, he knew who the White Witch was. He knew how difficult this rescue would be. If Peter had not trapped in this castle, Edmund was not sure he would have the courage to travel inside there at all.

Despite how quietly they entered through the gates, the Witch's soldiers were alerted immediately to their presence as soon as they ventured near the throne room. The Witch's soldiers fought against Edmund's troop of soldiers. Amidst the fighting, Edmund noticed that Peter was not in the throne room at all.

Edmund quickly sent Ari and Uven to search the castle for him. _Please, let them find him._

Once he sent his scouts to search, that was when he saw her, sitting and calm as she always had been. Cold and calculating. Now looking at the White Witch, he had no idea how he ever thought she was someone to trust. Evil radiated off her, and Edmund should have seen that from the beginning.

"Where is Peter?" Edmund gathered his strength, as he approached her carefully. She just smiled, mockingly sweet at him in return.

"Edmund, dear, I have missed you."

Her voice made his skin crawl. She used that same enchanting tone on him when he was a boy. It just sounded terribly hollow now.

"Where is Peter?" Edmund asked again, trying to keep himself steeled. "What have you done to him?"

"Terrible things, my dear," she replied cruelly. It just felt like she was already twisting a knife in his heart. "I broke him down piece by piece. I brought him down to our level."

What that truly meant terrified Edmund to his bone. He readjusted his hold on the hilt of his sword.

"Why?" Edmund barely choked out.

"I chose Peter because he was the best of you. The mighty High King. The great king who saved Narnia," she explained as she rose to her feet. Her hatred for Edmund and Peter was seeping through her smugness as she spoke, "And I broke him down to be like you and me. The brother you cherish died within these walls long before you ever got here."

_No, no, she had to be lying. Peter could not be dead. Not like this. No, Peter had to still be alive. He did not endure all of this just to die now. She had to be lying._

Edmund's heart constricted on him, and his vision was whitening. His heart pounded in his ears. Peter could not be dead; he could not be.

As she took hold of her stone knife that was covered in dried blood—Peter's blood, Edmund quickly realized—Edmund swallowed hard. "And you know I would never lie to you."

For the chance that Peter was alive, Edmund had to defeat her. It was the only way he could take Peter home, alive—or dead. It was all he could do.

Then, she charged right at him.

Edmund blocked her first strike and responded with one of his own before he registered what was happening. She just smirked at him, as she came at him once more.

They parried until one of her strikes nearly took his head off his shoulders.

Despite her evident skill, she was sluggish with her strikes. For some reason, she was weaker than she was five years ago.

She still had the experience that made her more than just a challenge for him. She anticipated his attacks. She blocked precisely. It did not seem to matter that she was slower.

She seemed to know this too, for she took another angle for strategy.

As they partly circled each other, taking a minor respite, she said, "I want you to know that I enjoyed watching your brother suffer by my hand. To know that I snuffed out that precious light of his." Venom dripped from her tone.

The weight of her words was sinking in when she came at him once again. He blocked her attacks a few times before they broke off once more.

"You will pay for what you have done to him," Edmund swore.

"You will have to survive long enough for that," she smirked. This time, when she lunged for him, he was ready.

He not only blocked her strike, but also then swung at her side, making contact. His slash cut straight through her dress.

Edmund expected blood to come from her wound. Oddly enough, it was snow. Although, he knew it made no sense, he still was puzzled by it for a moment too long.

This time, she was the one to make contact. Her stone knife slashed his upper left arm. Foolishly, he released his sword. It clattered on the ground, the echoes of the sound bouncing off the iced walls.

The two made eye contact, looked at his fallen sword, and then back at each other. There was a pause on both of their actions.

Then they both scrambled forward. Edmund tried to bend down to reach his sword as she advanced quickly. He realized only a second in his attempt that he would not be able to pull his sword up in time.

Yanking the dagger from his boot, he fired the blade at the White Witch. Catching her off-guard, the dagger landed in her leg. While it did not stop her, the new wound allowed him the time to retrieve his sword.

As more snow poured from her wound, Edmund fought on against her. The more time passed, the more he realized he was losing.

Just as she was pressing him in battle and he was becoming late on his blocks, he heard the cheers of his own people filling the halls.

Bursting through the gates were their reinforcements. Captain Ver led the charge. They had arrived just in time to turn the tide.

The cheers of his people offered a fraction of a distraction. It was just barely enough time.

Edmund struck at the White Witch; she was late on her block. His next strike came high. She barely blocked him. His final strike was at her middle, and with a twist of his wrist, he took the sword right out of her hand.

It landed a few feet away. She was now weaponless. Surprise took over her face. He had outmaneuvered her. He had defeated her.

"Now, where is Peter?"

"I already gave you the answer," Jadis answered wickedly.

As Edmund eyed around them, he noticed that most of her followers had been killed or they had surrendered.

This fight was over. And he needed to find Peter. His own focus on Peter foolishly distracted him for a moment.

"King Edmund, watch out!" Someone called out.

Jadis had been lunging right at him with an iced dagger, one she must have made. All Edmund had to do was holding up his sword, and the blade pierced her charging form clean through. It halted all of her advance.

The dagger dropped from her hand, becoming snow when it touched the ground. She staggered back as he stumbled forward. He yanked his blade from her.

She took another step back, her face becoming whiter.

"We will see each other again," she promised.

She collapsed to the ground. The moment she landed on the ground, her body crumbled into snow.

The White Witch was gone from Narnia once more.


	17. Brothers

Edmund only waited a moment to see that the White Witch was actually gone before he yelled, "Peter!" He took off towards the dungeons, praying that was where Peter was. Alive.

He vaguely heard voices of his officers shouting and moving after him. He did not slow. He did not care.

"Peter!"

Desperation clung to him. Panting and out of breath, he hastily made his way down the steps. The same steps he had taken all those years ago. A flash of his memory hit his vision for a moment. He kept pressing on despite it.

When he reached the foot of the hall of the dungeons, he called, "Peter, where are you!?"

_Just a sound. Anything. Just give me some indication that you are alive. Please._

He ventured down the hall, tears building in his eyes, as he opened the dungeon doors and finding them empty. He kept yelling for Peter. Not a sound was given in response.

"Your majesty!" A high-pitched voice called. He barely saw the blurry image of a blue bird flying overhead as Uven directed, "King Peter is over here!"

Uven flew in front, leading to the very end of the hall. Edmund ran after him. Edmund slid to a stop at the last dungeon cell.

Surprisingly, the door was kept unlocked, and only once Edmund was inside did he see why.

The door slammed open, and Edmund barged right in. Edmund's call of Peter's name died in his throat as soon as he saw Peter. Instead, it came out as a forced whisper.

For a moment, everything just stopped. Edmund's heart. His urgency. The sight of Peter made his chest constrict and hurt.

Chained and bloodied, Peter was blindfolded and gagged in the middle of this icy cell. His skin was pale and bruised terribly.

Edmund ran to his side, "Pete." Peter was trembling when Edmund reached him. "Let me get these off—"

Edmund barely touched Peter's face before Peter violently flinched away from his touch. Peter was moving his mouth. It took Edmund a second to realize Peter was pleading for him not to hurt him as he pulled away from Edmund.

"No one is going to hurt you anymore," Edmund promised. His heart broke, as he pulled out the gag and took off the blindfold, seeing the tears streaming down Peter's cheeks.

Peter's cheeks were hollowed in. Blood coated the tips of his hair and lined his face. His fingers were bruised and oddly positions. He had dried blood throughout his clothes.

Dark circles plunged underneath his eyes. The pupils in his eyes were huge, still adjusting to the light in the cell. He was shaking terribly. _He must be freezing_, Edmund thought considering he was scarcely wearing a light shirt and riding pants.

"Get the key to these chains!" He called quickly to Uven.

"At once, sire!"

Peter's eyes widened at the sight of Edmund before he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging on his restraints.

"No, no, Peter, don't do that. You are only going to hurt your wrists more," Edmund warned. They were already raw and swollen.

Peter shook his head, whispering, "Please, stop, please." He pulled on his chains some more.

"Pete, it's me, Ed," Edmund said, trying to keep the calmness from leaving his voice.

"No, just leave me alone," Peter begged him. "Please, I cannot keep doing this."

Puzzled by Peter's words, Edmund assured, "I am not leaving you here. We are here to rescue you, and once we get you out of those chains—"

"No, stop," Peter said with a harshness that then broke into a frailness. "I know you aren't real this time."

A sob left his throat, and he faced away from Edmund.

_What has she done to you?_

"Peter, I am real. I am right here," he reached up to Peter's face to provide a comfort, only halting his motion when Peter flinched away in anticipation. "We are going to save you."

"That is what you all have said," Peter reasoned through his cries.

"Pete, you have to believe me, I am Edmund. Your brother. Your best friend." He gently touched Peter's arm. "I am real. I am here to save you."

Peter looked at Edmund's hand on his arm and then at Edmund's face. Edmund thought he had convinced Peter until right before his eyes, he saw the doubt creeping back in Peter's eyes.

He shook his head. "Please, just stop."

_What can I do to convince him I am who I say I am? That I am not some trick from the White Witch? _He thought about this carefully for a moment. It needed to be something that the White Witch could not have replicated. Something no one else would have known.

He heard the rattling of keys, and he held his hand back to Captain Ver for her to halt at the door. She held the keys in her hands but waited outside, allowing them the space they needed.

"What if I tell you something only I, Edmund, could know?" And Edmund knew just the memory.

Slowly, Peter blinked at him, offering no open objections.

Edmund took a deep breath, asking, "Do you remember the day that I was rescued from the White Witch's camp?" Edmund waited until Peter slowly nodded before Edmund continued, "That morning, you had walked out of your tent, and you saw me standing on top of the mountain with Aslan. I never told you what he had said to me."

Edmund never thought he would ever share it either. While it was personal between him and Aslan, he never maliciously kept it from his siblings, Peter especially. But this was a moment he knew it was the best example he could use.

He did not know how Jadis's illusions worked, but if she had access to Peter's memories in any way, anything he knew, she could have manipulated him with them. This was the one memory Jadis did not have the information to replicate, nor did he think she would try to imitate what Aslan had ever said.

"I was scared up there with him," Edmund admitted. "It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Here, I was standing in front of a talking lion, and none of you were around. Not that I thought I deserved any of you to be there at the time."

Peter's expression was unreadable. Edmund could not tell if this was going well or not. He continued regardless. He slightly beckoned Captain Ver, as he was telling his story, to hand him the keys, and then she immediately dispersed. Peter barely noticed.

"I was ashamed of what I did, and I was scared of what Aslan would do to me for it. But when he finally spoke, I knew he was like no one I had ever met," Edmund told. "I tried apologizing to him, for I was truly sorry. While he accepted my apology, he told me, 'What's done is done. You can only go from this day forward and be better than you were before. You are a traitor no more. Live out your days showing Narnia the strength of forgiveness'."

Peter just slightly nodded to this. Edmund could not tell if he was agreeing with Aslan's words or if he held an understanding that Aslan would say such a thing. Gently, Edmund unlocked the first shackle around Peter's wrist.

"He breathed on me, and for a moment, I felt the warmth of the sun, the kindness in his soul, and the gentleness of the world. I felt that everything would be okay because he was there."

Peter looked away at the end of this, staring at his lap. Edmund unlocked one of the shackles around his ankles.

"Then I heard Lucy yell my name, and I saw the three of you. Just standing there. I suddenly was terrified again. I asked Aslan if you three hated me. He told me that the three of you loved me dearly, but I would have to talk to you myself to know how you truly felt, and when I came to you, the three of you welcomed me back."

Edmund's gratefulness shined through his words, even after all these years. He unlocked Peter's last ankle from their chains.

"Even then, after everything I had done, you made sure I was alright, and you did not make me feel like a traitor any more. All because of you, I did not feel like an outcast."

Just as he ended his story, he freed Peter's last wrist. There was a moment's pause after Edmund concluded his story, a moment where Edmund was not sure if he had failed or succeeded.

Then Peter's face contorted, scrunching in effort, as he choked out, "Ed, it's really you?" A sob almost broke through as he added, "you promise?"

"I swear, Pete, it's me."

A relieved sob broke out of Peter's voice. Peter leaned forward, arms outstretched, as Edmund followed his lead, and the two hugged each other.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again," Peter quietly cried. "I didn't think I would—" His sobs kept his words at bay.

Edmund held him close. Pulling Peter's head into his shoulder, he ensured the embrace amplified the safety and love he was trying to emulate.

"You are safe now, I've got you," Edmund promised. When they broke apart, Edmund asked, "How about we leave this place? I am going to help you stand, okay?"

Peter nodded as Edmund gently moved Peter's arm around his shoulder. Edmund wrapped his arm around Peter's back, trying to support him best. Gently, he pulled Peter to his feet. He was leaning heavily into Edmund.

Peter's legs buckled underneath him, and Edmund barely steadied him, catching himself and Peter before the two of them crashed to the ground. Peter mumbled some apology out, but it did not change the need Peter required of Edmund to support him.

"Captain Ver is going to help me carry you," Edmund asked as she approached to help. "Is it okay if she touches you?"

At first, Peter shook his head, nearly shrinking into Edmund's neck. After a few moments of reconsideration, he said quietly, "Yes."

Captain Ver came over to the other side of Peter, gingerly taking his other arm, putting it around her shoulder. The two of them were able to practically carry Peter out of this cell. He heard Peter take a shaking breath at leaving his cell.

Once they struggled their way up the top of the stairs, their soldiers were lined up there. Peter slightly ducked his head, almost in shame. He leaned into Edmund more.

Their soldiers then bowed to them both, lining their exit. As they continued passing their soldiers, there was a deadly silence. Edmund saw his own pain reflected in his soldiers. They were bitterly angry; some were terribly sad. Only Aslan knew what Peter had truly gone through, but based on his appearance, they all could speculate a horrific ordeal for him.

As they passed the throne room, Peter flinched, tugging away, nearly pulling the three of them off balance.

"It's over, Pete. She is gone," he quietly reassured. "She is gone." A few more tears dripped down Peter's cheeks; he said nothing in response.

Finally, they reached the front gates. Peter's breath hitched when the gates were finally opened. The three of them blinked their way into the sunlight. A relieved breath left both Edmund and Peter, as they took their first step outside the castle walls.

Phillip immediately came over to them. Gently, he nuzzled Peter's face. A painful, scarce twitch flickered against Peter's lips, but no smile was every truly formed. He touched Phillip's snout. Not a sound left Peter.

Phillip turned on his side, kneeling all the way down. With effort, Ver and Edmund got Peter on Phillip's back. After making sure Peter could keep himself upright for the time being, Edmund went to Phillip's face.

"Phillip, I know it's a lot of weight," Edmund began, knowing just how awful it was for a horse to carry two people on their back.

Phillip never let him finish. All he said was, "Just do not let him fall off."

Edmund nodded, tears brimming. Quickly, he climbed in front of Peter on Phillip's back. Peter wrapped his arms around Edmund's stomach. He was still shaking. He held Edmund close.

Phillip started their trek back to up the ridge. Edmund heard Peter breathe once more, for he was finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapters will be up some time next week


	18. The Slow Trek

They had made camp a few miles from the White Witch's castle. The trek was slow, but not harsh.

Peter was quiet. Almost mute. The only times he made any sound was when a sniffle or a noise of discomfort left him when he moved the wrong way. Other than that, silence. Absolute silence. It was haunting. Peter, who always seemed to have the energy of his people and the heart of a lion, was stilled to his very core.

He clung onto Edmund as if he was afraid he would disappear. After a moment's thought, Edmund supposed that was not the wildest fear for Peter to have, especially after being manipulated for days with false visions.

Peter's head rested on the back of Edmund's shoulder. He was still shaking when they reached their camp. Edmund felt the vibrations from Peter's arms wrapped around him.

As soon as they entered the camp, Phillip took them straight to Lady Wan. They stopped at the foot of her tent. Several of their soldiers rushed over. They went to help Peter off Phillip; Peter tightened his hold on Edmund.

"Wait," Edmund halted his soldiers' motions with one word. Peter relaxed for just a moment. Edmund dismounted from Phillip before he turned back and faced Peter. Holding out both of his arms and Phillip lowering himself just a bit, Peter dismounted into Edmund's hold. "Thank you, my good sirs. I have it from here."

Peter and Edmund shuffled inside the healer's tent.

"Lady Wan," Edmund greeted. Lady Wan was typically unfazed by the horrors of war. She had seen the worst. Seeing Peter, however, caused her smile to fade and settle into a deep frown.

"Sit here, and let me have a look at you," Lady Wan instructed. Edmund and Peter waddled over to the makeshift bed. Peter sat down on its edge as Edmund stood next to him. Lady Wan came over to Peter. Neither Lady Wan nor Edmund missed the way Peter flinched and grabbed a hold of Edmund's arm as she came close.

Lady Wan halted her movement. Instead, from afar, she requested, "My King, I am going to check your injuries. I just need you to remove your shirt, and I'll look from here—"

"No," Peter quietly shrieked out, feverishly shaking his head.

"She is not going to hurt you," Edmund reassured softly. "She just wants to make sure you are not any worse."

"No, I am fine," Peter protested. "Please, I am, I swear it." There was a sudden urgency in his plea.

"My King, if I do not check the injuries, they could heal improperly or fester," Lady Wan reasoned.

"They are healed—" Peter's voice caught in his throat. When he regained his fractured composure, he quietly explained, "She healed me every time."

This nearly explained it all. He would have no wounds to check if the Witch did, in fact, heal his wounds every time. Probably just scars. But something felt very wrong, Edmund just could not pinpoint exactly what it was. Yet.

"I promise, you do not need to check," Peter insisted.

This time, there was a conviction in his voice that even Edmund did not want to argue with, despite his suspicions. Lady Wan seemed to contemplate this for a moment. She was after all the Cair's top healer, and Edmund knew the hysteria that would be caused if their people found out that Peter was still hurt after being discharged from her care.

Still, her old eyes set on Peter as she studied him. She did not press him further, did not even ask him for more reasoning.

All she said was, "Your Majesty, you must come to me immediately if anything worsens, understood?" Her voice stern and unwavering. The relief on Peter's face was unnerving, but Edmund did not comment on it. Peter nodded with a small assurance coming from his lips. The rest of Lady Wan's check went from afar. She concluded, "You need to eat and rest a whole lot. Then, once you have done that, you have to eat and rest some more."

"Thank you, Lady Wan," Edmund said.

"Come to me at your slightest inconvenience, my King," she told Peter. Peter just nodded.

As Peter got up, shaking a bit, he was able to stand while using something to keep himself upright. He ventured towards the exit of the tent, and he quite obviously waited for Edmund before leaving though.

Before Edmund went to Peter's side, Lady Wan said quietly, "King Edmund, come back and let me stitch your arm once he is settled." Edmund nodded before reaching Peter's side.

The two of them went back into the sunlight.

"We should get you something to eat," Edmund suggested. All Peter did was shake his head. "Come on, Pete, I know you are hungry," Edmund nudged.

Shaking his head again, he said softly, "I need to bathe."

There was not much conviction in his voice, but something about the way Peter looked, Edmund did not think it was something he could argue.

"Do you want help? I could get—"

Peter just shook his head. "I just need a few minutes."

Again, the suspicion lingered in Edmund more. Edmund did not press him.

"I'll get you some clothes to change into," Edmund offered. "Just give me a moment." Edmund ran over to his tent, rifling through some of the clothes Sir Darren had packed him. He found one of Peter's tunics and plain pants. He also grabbed a pair of Peter's boots and some soap for Peter.

"Jatix, Ash!" Edmund called. His two wolves immediately raced to his side. He rushed back over to Peter.

When Edmund came back, Peter was leaning against one of the barrels of supplies. Eyes averted from everyone. He hardly noticed Edmund's return.

"I brought you some clothes," Edmund showed them off. "And there is a stream nearby that you could use if that is alright—"

Peter nodded. Edmund did not expect any further explanation and did not receive one. The two of them walked to the stream. It was secluded enough to offer Peter the privacy he desired but not too far away that no one could help him if he needed it.

"Could I do this alone?" Peter softly asked.

"Oh, right," Edmund's unsettledness returned. But again, he ignored it. "Jatix and Ash will be nearby to protect you," Edmund reassured. "You will be safe here." Edmund left him be, seeing to sending Susan, Lucy, and Oreius an update on their rescue. With one last look in Peter's direction, Edmund let him have some time to himself.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It was not that Peter wanted to be away from Edmund. As soon as Edmund left him, Peter regretted sending him away. But as he eyed the two wolves left to protect him, he noticed that they were not looking at him, just listening in case he needed anything

He let out a breath of relief. He needed to get clean, and the longer he stayed in these clothes, the more certain he became about it. With a good amount of hisses and discomfort, he managed to get undressed and into the water.

At first, he was apprehensive. Cleaning meant that he was free and alive. Cleaning meant it was over, and well, this still felt more like a dream to him than any reality of late.

He scrubbed terribly and certainly harsh until his skin was left red and raw. His wrists hollowed and bruised around where he was shackled. As he stared at the rawness of his skin, specks of water glistened down on his arm, making him shiver.

He grazed his arms, feeling the scars that still lingered well after he was healed. Until he reached his collarbone, he was well contained. He had barely felt the tip of the letters when his emotions took a hold on him.

He traced the scar with his index finger. He had only gotten to the letter, "A" before he curled into his legs, and a quiet sob left him. His hand covered his mouth to keep his crying from alerting his protectors or his other soldiers. He did not know if he succeeded, but he attempted all the same.

Because this was real. This scar was real, and she had branded him for all his days to come. Even though he was with Edmund now, Jadis still clung to him. Her name was on him. He would never be the same again.

The relief he had felt when he left the castle now felt hollow to him. Because he knew, he was never going to escape her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Edmund returned after some time, Peter had already dressed and was sitting on the grass, trying to keep himself from falling apart. Edmund had his arm bandaged when he returned, but Peter's head hurt too much for him to try to remember if Edmund had been injured when he last saw him.

Edmund had brought some food and drink for Peter, and honestly, all Peter wanted to do was be sick. The mere thought of eating was vile to him. Drink was not appetizing either. He had not eaten for days, and drinking had been something he was forced to do.

Therefore, when Edmund offered him both, Peter refused. Edmund looked deeply concerned, but Peter could not help it.

"Pete, you are starving," Edmund noticed. "Just eat a little."

Peter found himself unable to speak further. He felt almost paralyzed in not knowing how to get out of this. He could not explain this to him. Not right now. He was far too tired. Far too drained.

"Can I just sleep?" Peter anxiously asked. He averted his eyes, uncertain how Edmund would take it. Would Edmund be angry with him? Would he be forced to drink here too? It would only further prove to Peter that this was not real.

Unlike the cruelty that Peter had felt for the last few days, Edmund spoke with a gentleness that Peter had terribly missed when he said, "Whatever will make you feel better, Pete."

Peter's breathing stopped as he forced himself to look at Edmund. He only saw unyielding love come from him. It was overwhelming. Peter's face scrunched, his emotions wanting to come out once more.

"Pete?" Edmund spoke in concern. Honestly, it only made Peter's emotions worse. For the concern was genuine, not the faked amount that Jadis had been telling him.

A few tears spilled down Peter's cheeks. Peter could not find the words; he just looked at Edmund. Somehow, Edmund seemed to understand not to press.

Instead, he offered, "Let's get some sleep."

Edmund held out his hand, which Peter took, and helped Peter to his feet. The two of them silently ventured over to a slightly large tent. Jatix and Ash trailed behind them. The more they walked, the more tired Peter became. The strain of trying to keep himself together was far more draining than he had realized.

Every action seemed to take so much more effort than he had. It was all catching up to him, and by the time they entered the tent, Peter was about to fall asleep.

At first, Peter felt almost suffocated in the tent, causing him to ask, "Could you leave the tent flaps open?"

Edmund did not even question him and did so. With the breeze blowing into the tent and the sunlight peering in, Peter felt himself ease once more. Peter gently got on the cot, lying down. It felt odd after all this time to be lying in a makeshift bed. He had been chained to a chair for days. He did not get to lie to sleep at all.

"Just take it slow," Edmund encouraged softly. Peter adjusted himself until he was a bit more comfortable. It still felt strange to him.

"You will be here when I wake up, right?" Peter asked nervously. Peter side-eyed him from where he laid. Edmund gingerly laid down in the cot only a foot or so away.

"I'll stay the whole time," Edmund promised. And to that, he did. Peter breathed easier at this. "I love you, Peter," Edmund said kindly. Peter could not explain how much he needed to hear him say that.

"I love you, Ed," Peter replied quietly. Peter adjusted his position, lying on his side, facing Edmund.

Hearing Edmund's even breathing, Peter passed out before any nightmares could take hold of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this! This update is shorter than the other ones, but I will hopefully be posting more Sunday or Monday. Thank you!


	19. A Gentle Touch

Edmund barely woke up when Peter gasped awake. As Edmund's sleepy eyes adjusted to being awake, he saw Peter had bolted upright.

"Pete?" Edmund groggily said. When Edmund properly could see again, he saw the evident fear in Peter that made Edmund rise from his resting position. Peter's breathing was rapid; his arms were wrapped around himself protectively. Edmund moved to go closer to him when Peter held out his arms.

"No, no, please, stop," Peter pleaded. It stopped all Edmund's movements, Peter's voice raspy and defeated. "Just leave me alone."

"Pete, it's me," Edmund urged after a pause.

Peter never looked at him fully; he just shook his head. There was disbelief in his eyes.

"Stop, please, I can't keep seeing him," Peter begged. Peter's fingers racked through his hair. "I can't take this anymore."

"This is not a vision," Edmund told him, hoping his conviction would convey the truth. "You and I are both real here. We rescued you yesterday. You are safe."

Peter just shook his head.

"Please, stop telling me that," Peter pleaded, his words breaking Edmund's heart.

"I speak the truth, Peter. We defeated them. This is real. You are free," Edmund did not know what to do. His words were not working. He moved a bit closer to Peter, but that only made things so much worse.

"Don't hurt me!" Peter cried. "Please, stop, please."

Peter clung onto his own arms as he leaned forward, his face nearly brushing the ground in front of him. Terrible cries left him. But his cries soon shifted to hyperventilating, and that only seemed to make his panic even worse.

"Peter, just try to breathe. It is okay. I am not going to hurt you," Edmund quickly reassured. Peter was hardly breathing through his panic. He was visibly trembling. "Just breathe. You are not there. You are safe," Edmund kept saying.

Nothing was helping. Edmund was trying to rack his brain for some way of helping Peter, but he found none. He could not even really think of a solution. Edmund did not know what to do. Seeing Peter distressed like this was frightening. Edmund was doing all he could not to freak out himself. _Peter needs me to remain strong_, he kept reminding himself.

Aside from Peter's rapid breathing and his panicked cries, he was now silent on pleas. Not a word left him. Edmund kept saying words of reassurance, but he had no means of understanding if they were working. That was when he remembered.

"You need to focus on something," Edmund said quietly. It could ground him. Maybe, make him feel like this was real.

Edmund quickly pulled off the golden lion chain he always wore. It was a present from Lucy; Peter would recognize it. And he hoped it was something that the Witch would not replicate. Very slowly, Edmund held out the necklace to Peter. Peter flinched terribly as his breathing intensified at the closeness. Edmund kept his hand in place.

Gently, Peter looked at the necklace. At first, he looked rather confused until he frowned. After some time, he gingerly took it out of Edmund's hand, clutching between his fingers. He closed his eyes.

At a painfully slow rate, Peter's breathing finally evened. He was still terribly shaking, but at least, he was no longer hyperventilating. He was sweating, yet shivering.

When he finally did open his eyes, he looked dazed. Then he looked down at the necklace in his hand. He seemed awfully sad at the sight.

"I still remember the day Lucy gave that to me," Edmund said. "It was the anniversary of our first year reigning together."

"I remember," Peter quietly agreed. When he looked at Edmund, he appeared the epitome of misery. Peter's breathing was calming down. His cheeks were still stained with his tears.

"You are not there with her," Edmund said. "She is gone."

"Yeah," Peter quietly replied, nodding his head. Edmund was relieved that Peter, at least, did not worry about being with the White Witch. His relief was short-lived and incorrect.

"I promise, you are safe here, Pete," Edmund reassured. "No one is going to hurt you."

This time, Edmund saw that Peter did not believe him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Susan's heart had been in her throat the moment she received the message from Edmund. The entire way they sped as fast as they could to get to the White Witch's castle. They had been almost a day away when she received her second message from Edmund, the one telling her that Peter was safe and alive.

It was a vague and short response. It eased the most prominent concerns for Susan, of course. Now, all that remained was just seeing Peter again.

She wanted to give him a big hug and tell him she loved him. Honestly, she only thought about holding her two brothers in her arms.

It was not until she arrived at their campsite a few miles north of the Western Woods that she knew something was wrong. Everything was quiet. Far too quiet.

Her people worn seldom faces and hung shoulders. She would have thought they came into a defeat by their looks.

Ordinarily, any camp, even before a battle, was lively. But there was hushed voices amongst her soldiers. As she crossed over to where she saw Phillip, she saw Edmund first. He seemed grave as usually with a heavy weight resting around him, even from this distance she could tell.

He barely saw her before she raced over to him.

"Susan, thank Aslan, you are here," he softly said. A small chuckle that vaguely resembled a happy emotion came from Edmund.

"Where is he?" She whispered as she held Edmund. She pulled away from him, looking at his sleepy eyes and worn face.

"He is right in there," Edmund said, gesturing to the tent not too far from them. His voice shifted to urgency, "And Susan—"

He never finished his warning, for Peter stepped right out of the tent to her right as he spoke. Edmund's voice halted to a stop.

The first thing she felt was angry, deep anger that wanted to boil up and explode. Then a terrible grief coursed through her. Because standing before her, terribly thinned and scarred, was her sweet brother. Faded and fresh bruises reflected off his skin. And he was so pale. He scarcely looked like the same brother she had seen only about a week ago.

Astonishment took over his face as he looked at her.

She expected him to smile as he always did when he saw her. He did not. No, this time, his expression never changed. He just seemed astounded.

Feeling herself a bit hesitant, she cleared the distance between them. She pulled him into a hug, feeling the way he tensed as she did. It took him a few moments to ease into her hold.

"It's really you, Susan?" His voice was hollow and skeptical.

"I am here now," she promised. She held the back of his head, keeping him close. "I am so sorry, Peter," she whispered to him. His hold only tightened in response.

She was not exactly sure these words of apology quite covered everything. She just needed him to know that she was truly sorry.

He suffered for days, and they did not find him nearly soon enough.

When they broke apart, Peter's face was calmer. Still, there was a great deal of tension surrounding him.

She cupped his cheek. He flinched away. She recoiled her hand.

"I—" Peter started, his eyes averted. She had never seen him look so—so defeated. "I'm sorry."

She just put on her best smile, telling him that it was all right. But none of this was. He should not be flinching at her touch. He should not be afraid or nervous. Not here. Not with her.

All of this was wrong.

"Hey," Edmund took a few cautious steps towards them. Both of their attention went to him, Peter's much slower than Susan's did. "How about we rest for a bit and then we can start heading back to the Cair?"

Edmund and Susan both eyed Peter. He blinked a couple of times at him before he nodded.

"That would be a great idea," Susan agreed, though she was not certain herself.

_Please, let home help Peter._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

They had been travelling for a good part of the rest of the day back home. Oddly enough, Susan noticed that Peter said absolutely nothing the entire time. Even when they attempted to speak with him, he just used nonverbal responses, even when the question was more in-depth than a simply head shake.

Susan's worrying only grew when they had stopped for a few hours of rest. She had found Lady Wan, asking her about Peter's wellbeing. Her lack of information did not make her worries feel any ease. Instead, Lady Wan's words only made her feel worse.

"His majesty is not eating, my Queen," Lady Wan informed her. She looked not pleased either.

"Where is he?" She asked a bit harsher than she meant.

"I do not know, my Queen," Lady Wan replied. "I simply know that he has refused any sort of basic need, despite needing them. Perhaps, your gentle touch will be what he needs."

Susan was not sure if she could actually succeed in a task like this, but she was going to try anyway. She found Peter sitting in the shade, resting his back on the tree he was sitting under. Based on his troubled frown, she figured he was lost in his own thoughts. Susan was surprised that Edmund was not with him, but then, she noticed Edmund was talking with their officers. Even in the short while she was with Peter, she noticed he did not interact with anyone other than Susan or Edmund, even if it was only brief.

"Peter," she alerted him prior to approaching. He turned and looked at her. No smile was there. Not even an inflection like there was an attempt to be one. "May I sit with you?"

After a few seconds, he nodded. His eyes cautiously watched her as she sat next to him. She waited a moment as she gathered her thoughts. She had to approach this gently.

"Peter," she said, working to keep her voice steady. "You have to eat." Peter shook his head. "I know you might not want to, but you must." Peter furrowed his brow as he thought. When he did not speak again though, she said, "Starving to death is not the answer."

"I don't want to eat," Peter answered quietly.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he replied. And she believed him. She could see it by his defeated composure.

"Is it the food itself? Because I can fetch you something you would like?" When he shook his head to indicate she was wrong, she asked, "What can I do to get you to drink and eat?"

"When I think of eating anything, I want to be sick," Peter answered. "Drinking is only worse."

"Why?" Susan asked before she could stop herself. "I am sorry. I should not—"

Peter looked away, closing his eyes as if it was all too much to bear before he actually gave her an answer, "She forced water down my throat when I refused to drink."

Susan was not sure what she was expecting, but that certainly was not it. Susan was terrified to know what that ordeal was like. It must have been horrifying. Her heart broke in a million pieces.

How many horrors did Peter have to deal with? What did that awful Witch do to him?

"I am so sorry, Peter," was all that Susan managed to say. Peter did not say anything in response. It was not as if anything either of them could say would make it fine.

Peter just took a steadying breath, not uttering another word. She did not blame him. If that was only a glimpse at what Peter had endured, she understood his hesitancy around all of them. That was probably only a minor scratch at the surface. It was probably nothing compared to all that he went through.

Susan did not know what to say in response to him, and therefore, chose to move on.

"How about I make you a deal? Every piece you eat, Edmund and I shall eat the same amount as well." This seemed to remotely peak his brotherly interest. He, at least, looked at her with a near blank expression. "All three of us will be properly fed, and we will not see Edmund become a grouch when hungry," she offered.

He seemed to consider it for a moment before he quietly agreed. But despite agreeing, the actual process of eating was a struggle to say the least. He refused almost everything they gave him. He nearly panicked the entire time.

After much resistance, Peter ended up eating barely any food. Much less than anyone would have wanted. But it was more than he had before. It had taken him over two hours to eat a few pieces of bread and drink some water. That was it.

_Small victory_, she concluded to herself. She was hoping that once she got back to the Cair, and with the support of Lucy and Oreius, they could get Peter to want to eat and take care of himself.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Not long after he finished did Peter express that he was tired and excused himself to sleep for a few hours.

As he left, Edmund's worried stare followed him all the way to his tent.

"I know that look," Susan said. Edmund's frown did not leave him, even as she continued to speak. "Are you worried about Peter going to sleep? He will be safe here, I promise."

"You weren't here this morning when he woke up," Edmund stated. "Susan, he completely panicked." After only a dreadful moment, he explained, "He thought he was still with her. He begged me not to hurt him."

That rage boiled against Susan's chest once more. Edmund should not have had to experience that nor should Peter have to deal with any of this in the first place.

What had truly happened to Peter behind those walls? What had the White Witch done to him? Susan shuddered at these possibilities.

"Is she dead?"

Edmund knew exactly whom she was talking about.

"Yes," he answered before adding, "but she was supposed to be dead before."

There was hauntedness around Edmund. One she knew he was trying to deal with on his own.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Susan asked. "Any of it?"

He gave a bit of thought before answering, "I don't think I am ready yet. I think once we get home, at least, this will part will be over." He looked over at the tent where Peter had entered.

"Going home should help him," she said.

"Or make it worse," Edmund countered bitterly.

"You cannot always be a pessimist, Edmund," she teased lightly. She had the same doubts herself.

He gave her an amused smile, remarking, "Yes, I absolutely can be, especially around the three of you. You are all far too positive."

"We are all the right proportion of optimistic," she claimed. "Besides, normally I am much closer to your level of gloom."

This caused him to laugh, not completely but enough to ease a bit of her overwhelming feelings.

After some time after his laughing, Edmund sighed sadly, "I wish none of this ever happened."

She had to agree. Looking at Peter now, she was terrified at what was to come. She was frightened to know what truly had happened to her brother.

But all she managed to say was, "Me too."


	20. Cair Paravel

Seeing the glimpse of the Cair over the hillside made Peter's stomach twist uncomfortably. Still the castle stood glorious and golden.

_And I am none of those things_, Peter thought to himself as they came over the hill. The full sight of the castle was upon him now.

It was exactly the same from the day he left. It felt so much longer ago than a week. Everything was different now.

He was so different now.

Tainted and scarred. It was the first time he had truly wished to be returning home to England in five years instead because, at least, in London, no one expected anything of him. But here, he was High King, and he did not believe he was much of one of late.

Still, regardless of his inner turmoil, they continued towards the entrance of the Cair. Some of their soldiers and their people bowed and greeted them. Mostly, it was quiet. No one was excited, and Peter was glad for it.

This was no celebration. All he did was live, and that was barely.

Susan and Edmund were on both sides of Peter, Susan's hand holding his, Edmund linking his arm around his other. This once, he was comforted by their closeness. They did not make him feel like he was suffocating, and he was grateful for that. It was returning home that caused him the most turmoil.

As they approached the bridge leading to the Cair, Susan leaned in closer to his ear and said as if she could read his mind, "Just breathe. We are right here for you."

Edmund leaned in closer, as if he knew too. But they were not ruined people. He was.

He was managing well enough until he saw Oreius.

His eyes shifted to his feet, just taking one step at a time. He could not look Oreius in the eyes like he once did. Not after he had fallen so much from someone who might have been worthy of Oreius's respect to someone who deserved none. Not after he had cried and pleaded with the White Witch. Not after she branded him hers.

Only when he felt the gently nudge from his siblings did he realize he had stopped moving. Every part of him did.

He only glanced at Oreius to see the present stoic expression falter to a frown. That was when the heat rose to Peter's face, and coldness tingled against his skin.

"I can't do this," he barely got out the words. Pulling away from his siblings, he tried to get away from the situation. They did not hold onto him, but they did not let him leave without questions.

Edmund asked gently, "What can you not do?"

"This!" Peter nearly hissed, hoping Edmund would keep his voice down. Although, it hardly mattered. Peter, Edmund, and Susan had stopped. No one was going to move until their Kings and Queen proceeded. Evidently, that meant all eyes were on them. That only made it all worse.

Hastily, he gestured to the Cair and the bridge in front of them. All of them.

"I just can't—" he could not explain. He could not even attempt to try. He was not the same person. How could he go back to the home that was once his?

"How can we help?" Susan asked gently.

"I don't know," he said sadly. He shook his head. What was wrong with him? How could he just not walk in? His own frustration boiled.

"My good sirs and ladies, please, continue on ahead," Edmund called out to their people. "Leave us." Not a single argument was heard. Their people hastily left.

The only people remaining were the three of them and Oreius, who came a bit closer, yet still held himself at a cautious length.

"I don't know how to do this," Peter admitted.

"We will learn together," Edmund reassured. "You have helped us all. We will help you."

_I do not deserve that help_.

"But you don't know what happened—I can't go in there," Peter repeated himself. "Not like this."

"This is your home," Oreius spoke for the first time, taking a few cautious steps towards them. Peter's heart pounded, and his eyes widened. Oreius stopped when he must have noticed Peter's panicked expression. "What she has done to you does not change that."

_Of course he is saying that, he does not know the truth_, Peter thought to himself.

Peter shook his head.

"You don't understand," Peter started. Tears welded in his eyes.

Before he could begin, he heard Lucy yell his name, "Peter!"

There was such an overwhelming joy and love in her voice, all of Peter's other harsh thoughts vanished for a moment.

All four of their attention went to her as she ran to them.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucy was grateful Peter's back was turned to her as she approached with Mr. Tumnus. She was grateful he did not see the way she nearly stumbled at the sight of him. He had lost significant weight. But it was not the physical appearance that terrified her, it was his demeanor.

The stress was radiating off his entire body. The anguish, the turmoil, he was struggling a battle she did not know of. His shoulders slouched from a terrible defeat. It struck her heart to see him like this.

What had happened to her sweet brother? She knew she could perplex the question later. For, Peter needed her now.

He was home, and that was all that was going to matter to her.

With a reassuring nod from Mr. Tumnus, Lucy put on her brightest smile, shouting his name. She had startled all four of them.

She ran to them, kicking up bits of dirt on her dress. She ran straight to Peter, engrossing him in a hug.

She did not know why but she felt him stiffen as if a snake had coiled him. However, before she could pull away, his tension reduced ever so slightly, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Peter," she kept the joy in her voice. "I am so happy to see you!" His hold tightened around her slightly. "I missed you."

"Lu—" he just whispered softly. His chin rested on her shoulder. He only began leaning more and more until she realized he had begun to cry.

"It's alright, Peter, it'll be alright," she tried to reassure. She eyed Susan and Edmund. While Edmund nodded in encouragement to her, Susan's focus was on Peter.

Lucy held onto him tightly, trying her best to give him her love just through her hug. She hoped it was enough. Her own tears escaped through her eyes.

_What happened to you?_

After some time, he pulled away from her, wiping the tears off his cheeks. He was awfully quiet. Only a sniffle left him every few seconds. He was staring at his hands. He was trembling.

"Hey, Pete," Peter did not even look at Edmund when he spoke. "Why don't we head inside?" He did not even seem like he heard Edmund either.

Lucy's eyes flashed to Susan and Edmund, but they look as perplexed and uncertain as she felt. She looked to Oreius. He just tilted his head up, gesturing for her to try.

She held her hand out to Peter. His eyes lingered on her hand as if he was not sure what it was. Then he looked at her, questioning. His apprehension was unnerving. Did he think she could hurt him too?

"We can do this," she encouraged.

Very cautiously, his hand took hers. Gently, she gingerly walked towards the bridge, to see if he would follow. He did rather slowly, as if every step was agonizing.

For him, maybe it was.

They crossed the bridge at a slow pace, but it seemed to strain Peter to bear it. By the time they reached the front steps leading into the palace itself, he was short of breath.

He did not say a word. Instead, he elected just to sit down on the steps. He placed his head between his hands.

"Jules," Lucy called her nearby attendant, "Would you fetch my brother some water?"

"At once, my Queen," and she was off to comply. When she returned and offered the water to Peter, he just shook his head. At Susan's gesture, Jules handed her the water, and Susan thanked her before Jules departed.

Susan knelt down beside Peter, whispering soft words to him, "You don't have to drink it now, but you need to drink, Peter. You cannot dehydrate yourself either."

Peter barely spoke above a whisper, yet they all heard him. In a rather despairing tone, he asked, "Why is everything so hard?"

An echoing silence followed. Lucy certainly did not know how to answer him. It just hurt her down to her soul to hear him ask such a question.

"It will get easier," Edmund promised. Peter looked unconvinced. Edmund gently added, "It did for me."

It only took Peter about two seconds before his face scrunched with effort, almost a near pink color as he fought his emotions.

His curled hand pressed against his lips. Tears threatened to leave his eyes.

Lucy's own heart plummeted. The reminder that Edmund endured his own version of the White Witch's captivity stung Lucy terribly. Both of her brothers had suffered so much at that Witch's hands.

"Your majesty," Oreius caught their attention, Peter's especially. "Give yourself a respite. You do not have to deal with every aspect now."

Tears welled in Peter's eyes when he nodded.

"How about we rest upstairs, Peter?" Susan asked, keeping her voice delicate. She held out her hand to him, and he took it.

After some moments, they were able to coax him into entering the castle. Every step to his Chambers was the same but yet different struggle. Every part took more convincing and a few more tears. It broke Lucy's heart.

She knew that if he was like this, it must have meant he endured monstrous things. He was still so strong. He was fighting every inch not to break apart. It was admirable, she knew. But as his sister, seeing how devastated he was, it was far worse than she ever imagined.

They finally reached his Chambers, and the four of them proceeded in. Peter froze after the first step into his room. Nothing had been touched or moved. No one other than his chamber attendants to clean and his siblings had even been inside.

Lucy heard his breath hitch. She took a hold of his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. With her hand locked with his, he took his next steps in, and a pained look was on his face.

"It is strange. Nothing has changed," he noticed.

"Yes," Lucy agreed positively. "It is exactly the way it was."

"But I am not," he admitted sadly.

She did not know what to say to that. It seemed more like an observation he was saying aloud than directly to her. He looked around the room, as if he was noticing more evidence to support his statement.

His sad tone remained, but he asked, "Susan, do you still have that water?"

She handed him the goblet with a welcomed word. He drank a few small sips of it before he placed the goblet on his desk, not seeming to notice that he placed the goblet on all the documents that he had been working on prior.

Lucy wondered if Peter had been right. Had he changed that much? From what she had seen, she could not tell. She saw the bits of Peter there, but he just seemed too distraught for her to know for certain.

_I will love him always_, she told herself. She made a mental note to say the same words to him later.

He sat on the edge of his bed. He looked between the three of them almost in disbelief before cautiously laying down on his side. It was as if he was afraid the bed would be snatched away from him.

He was tense and much more on alert than he needed to be.

"It's alright, Pete. We will be here the whole time," Edmund reassured, taking a seat in the armchair near his bed to demonstrate this.

"And we will be here when you wake up," Susan added with a sweet smile on her face.

Lucy pulled his desk chair over and sat right beside him.

"We love you, Peter," Lucy leaned over to kiss his cheek, and he flinched. Instead, she pulled back carefully before sitting in the chair. "And we are not going anywhere."

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before they slightly relaxed.

"I love you too," he quietly answered. Eventually, he closed his eyes, exhaustion taking hold more than fear.

Slowly, the tension left him, and he fell asleep soundlessly. He was so strained and distressed. It would make sense it would be draining on him.

When it was rather certain Peter was asleep, Lucy asked in a hushed tone, "What happened?"

"We do not know," Susan said. "He is hardly speaking, let alone telling anyone what happened to him."

Edmund did not provide an answer at all. She worried that he knew more than just what Susan and Lucy did. Lucy was hoping that they would provide answers to her questions.

"What are we going to do?"

Edmund just continued watching Peter sleep with deep concern while Susan answered, "I don't think there is anything we can do."

That was not reassuring at all. Lucy was hoping one of them would have an approach, something to help make Peter feel safe.

"You two should rest. I'll stay with him," Lucy offered.

"I am not going anywhere," Edmund stated firmly. "I told him I would be here, and I am going to be."

"As am I," Susan agreed with the same amount of certainty.

_It is not just Peter_, she realized. Certainly, the most damage and focus was on Peter. But already, she saw how Susan and Edmund were altered by this too.

_Aslan, please, help my siblings and me through this_, she silently prayed. _Most of all, please, help Peter_.


	21. Nightmares and Uncertainty

Ice cold hands wrapped around his throat. He could not see his attacker, but he knew it was her. He flailed his arms; any attempt to break free was a failure, just like every other time.

His choking breath was cut off entirely, and his protests only grew in intensity. Coldness trailed down his body. He felt her breath on his neck again, the same way she had when she branded him.

He was helpless and trapped again. She had him. And suddenly, he was no longer clouded by darkness, but rather, he was back in his cell with her hanging over him.

She moved the part of his shirt that covered his brand. Still, it pulsed and was red. It still read her name.

She leaned in closer, her cold lips grazed his ear as she whispered, "You and I will be together for all eternity."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up with a terrible start, he realized a few seconds later that he had screamed himself awake. He was trembling, sweat drenched him, and yet, her touch still latched against his skin. He vaguely noticed figures in front of him, but none he recognized.

Immediately, he drew himself as far away from them as possible.

"No. Stay away from me," he pleaded as his back slammed against the frame of a bed. He could not get further away. He curled his knees up to his chest and sunk his head to them, covering his head with his arms.

The coldness lingered. He thought he could hear her laughter still. He held onto himself protectively. His heart constricted in his chest.

_I can't do this again. I can't._

"Peter," the voice was familiar and distant. He could not pinpoint who it belonged to until she spoke again, "Peter, it's us." _Susan_. "Edmund, Lucy, and I are here with you. The four of us are home. In the Cair."

Keeping his arms over his head, he just wanted the Witch to go away. He could not see her again. He could not deal with everything being a lie. Not again.

"Peter, it's us," Lucy's voice steadily said.

"Just stop," Peter whispered. "Please." Panic gripped his being. He felt his breathing increase when Edmund spoke.

"Do you remember the day we were crowned? Peter, what did we do that morning?" Edmund asked calmly.

The question was bizarre, and he could not think of that answer. It was so long ago. He was a different person then—

"Come on, Peter, you know this," Edmund nudged. "Just think, before we met with Aslan. What did the four of us do?"

Taking a deep breath, he remembered that day. They had all scarcely slept, excited and nervous. At the rise of dawn, the four of them went down to the beach to play in the water and build sandcastles.

"We played on the beach," Peter answered quietly.

He remembered splashing water at the three of them. He remembered how it had been the first time they were able to really play in a long time.

"And I had found that shell that sort of looked like Susan's horn," Lucy proudly claimed. Then she added with a small chuckle, "You and Edmund had both lost in our splash fight. Susan and I were victorious."

Peter remembered it all. He remembered being with his siblings then.

_And I am with them now_, he told himself unsurely.

He noticed then that the cold no longer coiled around him. The Witch's laugh had ceased. His shake was still present but was far less violent.

He opened his eyes, cautiously raising his head. The sunlight was barely peering into his room. It could not have been more than an hour passed dawn.

His siblings were staring at him, each a different emotion. Lucy was smiling with a kindness leaving her. Susan looked tensed but cautious. And Edmund, Edmund just looked terribly sad.

Taking some steadying breaths, Peter felt himself regain some amount of control over his terror.

_I am home, and Edmund did rescue me from the Witch. It was not a vision_.

For a while, the four of them just stayed in silence. It was not until Peter had regained his composure for the most part that he even attempted to move from where he was. Peter grabbed the fresh goblet of water next to his bed, drinking a bit of it before he asked, "Could we leave this room?"

"How about we head down to our lounge for breakfast, and—" Peter shook his head.

After swallowing hard, he asked, "Can we go somewhere less," His brain paused on the word. _Trapping_. He thought that word. He could not bring himself to say it. "Confining?"

Lucy did not miss a beat as she immediately suggested, "We could go to the garden."

Peter noticed the concerned look that passed between Susan and Edmund but neither said anything about it. Instead, they simply helped him downstairs and outside.

As the scurrying for their attendants to set up breakfast for them commenced, Peter could not help but feel out of place. They were all supposed to be there, except for him.

His siblings did not pester him to speak much until their breakfast was prepared, and it was just the four of them sitting there. Peter picked at some toast but to actually eat it felt like a tall order.

"Peter?" Lucy's voice reached his ears. He barely looked at her before she asked, "You look like you might be sick. Are you feeling alright?"

The answer was uncertain on all basic levels, but when that question rose to different levels of complexity, he was certainly not okay in any regard.

"That reminds me," Lucy claimed as she pulled her cordial from her dress pocket. "You should take some. It will make you feel better."

Peter could not help but stare at the cordial with a terrible displeasure. That was for emergencies. _Like when you saw Edmund dying_.

"I am not dying," Peter replied bitterly. "You cannot be wasting it."

"It would not be a waste," Lucy said sweetly. "It would heal you, and give you some of your strength back."

"That is not what it is for," Peter insisted. How could he take something that healed even the gravest of injuries when he was alive? When so many others had died? "I will heal from my injuries. We need it for actual emergencies."

"Lucy is right," Edmund agreed. "The cordial would heal any of the injuries you still have."

"But she healed—" Peter hissed at him.

"I know," he answered softly. "The cordial will make sure you are completely healed."

Peter knew better though. Completely healed was a matter of perspective. He knew that the cordial could lessen scars' appearances, but if the cut were deep enough, the scar would remain. Edmund's stomach was evident of that. And the one scar that Peter wanted removed he knew would still remain. He just knew that he was not lucky enough to escape the fate of wearing her brand.

"We just want to make sure you are not still physically hurt," Susan added gently.

"I still don't think I should take it," Peter said. "I am not gravely injured."

Susan glanced at Edmund for a moment, concern radiated off of her. She said, "But you are, Peter." She paused to let her words sink in. "Just because you are not dying right this moment, it does not change the graveness of your injuries. You are still hurt."

"She may have healed you to keep you alive, but she did not heal all of you," Edmund gently added.

"It won't make a difference," Peter protested. "The—The scars will remain."

"That is okay," Lucy said brightly. Her words caught Peter off guard. "You will make peace with the ones that stay. Until then, let's heal all that we can." She held the cordial out to him. A smile plastered on her face. His chest felt tight, and he felt unsteady. But deep down, he knew he could trust his siblings on this. They were looking for out for him, even if he could not.

Reluctantly, Peter held out his emptied goblet for her and drank the cordial she poured for him. The small bit of cordial barely tasted like anything, simply leaving a small bit of an oak taste in his mouth afterwards.

Only after a few moments did Peter feel a sudden rush of warmth that started in his throat and wiggled down all the way to his toes. It was comfortingly delicate in him and made him feel like he was slowly regaining some of his energy. He looked down at his fingers, seeing them mended into their proper place once more. Not in the cruel way that the Witch's healing did, but rather in a gentle ease. He noticed some of his older scars on his fingers were gone as well. But some still remained on his hands. And her name would still be there too, Peter knew even as he tried to discreetly touch his collarbone, still feeling the risen part of his scar when he pressed in.

"How do you feel?" Edmund asked.

Some scars were healed, but he had more scars than he possibly could carry. He did not think most were physical either.

"I think I will feel better soon," Peter said for their sakes.

It placed a smile on Edmund and Lucy's faces. Susan was unconvinced. Peter assumed it was because even a little bit of cordial would not change how broken he was.


	22. Seeking Guidance

It was late in the night; most of the castle was asleep. Peter, most importantly, was. The three of them had left him in Mr. Tumnus's care while he slept. Lucy just hoped Peter would sleep through the night.

In the library, the three had gathered with Oreius, Lady Wan, and Gemora, their respected teacher. Lucy had been the one to suggest they meet for guidance. Lucy had felt completely unqualified to assist Peter in the way he needed. Luckily, her siblings shared similar feelings of helplessness.

"Thank you for meeting with us at such an hour," Susan addressed. "We asked you because we need some assistance on how to best help our brother."

"In what way, your majesties?" Gemora asked.

"In every way possible," Lucy answered. "How can we help Peter recover and feel better?"

Their mentors had taken some time to consider. Oreius crossed his arms in clear thought. He was the first to speak: "The first thing you must do is accept that King Peter will forever be changed from his experiences as will all of you."

The truth in his words hurt. Because he was probably right. Peter would never go back to who he was before nor could they. He had been brutally tortured for days. They were just now seeing the aftermath of such an ordeal.

Peter had kept mostly to himself, and from what she could gather from Edmund and Susan, he only shared some details with them about his time. She presumed helping Peter would only become more of a challenge the more they knew.

And it was not like Edmund was able to speak about what he saw in that castle either. He had yet to mention any of his feelings of what he experienced at all. His entire focus was on Peter.

"Once you accept this change, you can start to love him for how he is now," Oreius said kindly.

"But we do not know how he is now," Susan said. "He barely talks at all."

"He will," Gemora said. "Just think about what you know. All that the three of you know about his experiences presumably is only scratching the surface of what he has gone through. He will need time to adapt."

"To feel safe," Lady Wan agreed.

"Why wouldn't he feel safe with us?" Lucy asked. "We would never hurt him."

"But his mind does not know that," Lady Wan explained. "For six days, he was fighting down to his very survival. Six days, he had to remain alert and had to endure all that these wicked creatures inflicted on him. He will need time to trust that the same treatment will not happen here."

Hearing Lady Wan say aloud about six days made Lucy's skin crawl. The reminder was unpleasant. Six days, Peter suffered at the hands of their enemies. Six days, he was all alone against the White Witch.

"How can we help him feel safe here?" Susan asked.

"Be there for him, your majesty," Lady Wan replied.

"And try to understand the signs he gives you on his boundaries. Those boundaries will be more reserved than you are used to, but there will be clear indicators to what he needs to feel safe," Oreius agreed.

"It does feel like most of the things we do upset him," Edmund admitted.

"He has been through a great deal of trauma," Oreius answered. He seemed pained by speaking of it. "His behavior may seem a bit strange. He might not even know the reason for it, but he is trying. Any Narnian worth his shield could see that."

"Yes, be mindful of this," Lady Wan encouraged. "Be aware of your own struggles with this as well."

"Our struggles? Shouldn't Peter be the top priority?" Susan asked with concern.

"Not at your own expense, my Queen," Lady Wan answered. "Do not burden yourself with guilt and pain. You will only hinder your abilities to assist yourselves and each other."

"We should take care of ourselves so we can better take care of Peter?" Lucy offered.

"Precisely, Queen Lucy."

After a few moments of silence had passed, Susan turned to Edmund, asking, "Edmund, how did we help you recover from your—time with the—with her?"

The question had caught all of them off guard, Edmund most of all. To be fair, it was a valid one to ask. He had the most experience with the White Witch and recovering from his imprisonment.

For a split second, Edmund resembled Peter in the way his eyes averted and his hands fidgeted. Because Edmund too suffered at the Witch's hands and remembering any moments with her could not be easy. Lucy felt her stomach twist at witnessing Edmund become nervous. She gently took his hand, giving him the support she thought he needed. He smiled appreciatively.

While Lucy knew they had helped Edmund recover, she could not remember how they actually did. All she did know was that Edmund had moved on from it with their help.

After some careful thought, Edmund answered, "Time. Time away from her and time with all of you."

"Did anything we say or do help you in particular?" Lucy asked.

"Of course, I mean, you both remember the long nights and nightmares. You three were always there, telling me it was going to be okay, that helped me a great deal." Edmund paused. Lucy knew an unpleasant thought crossed his mind by the way he crossed his arms and leaned back in a frustrated fashion. Bitterness filled his venomous voice. "Granted, when you told me that the White Witch was dead and couldn't hurt me again, I had the luxury of believing it."

There was a bitter silence as the weight of Edmund's words hung there. The terrible truth was exposed and raw.

After the long allotted silence, Oreius spoke, saying, "King Edmund is right. While it is essential to draw on past experiences for guidance, these two similar situations are vastly different and cannot be treated the same either."

"I, at least, had Peter to help me as well," Edmund shared. "I fear we will not be enough to help him."

Gemora nearly chuckled. "You do not have to handle this on your own, your majesty." She looked to Oreius and Lady Wan, before returning her attention back to the three of them. Edmund looked rather startled at Gemora's words. "We and everyone else in this castle will help the three of you and King Peter in recovering from this."

"You may always ask us at any hour, and we will help you in every way we can, your majesties," Lady Wan said.

"You will be enough," Oreius promised. "Just show Peter that you love him and have patience. He will recover. As will you."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Susan had only just closed her eyes when Peter jolted awake with a yelp. She immediately went over to him, noticing the way he recoiled away from her. She stopped, reminding herself to notice his signs like Oreius had suggested. She saw that his breathing hiked when she stopped moving towards him.

Unlike yesterday, he was silent on explanations and fears. This time, the only sound was his despaired breathing and his evident disorientation. His eyes flickered around the room, as if he was frantically checking to see who was a threat.

"It's okay, Peter," Susan gently said. "You are safe here. We are home." Only after she said the word home did Peter even look at her.

Edmund had roused from his sleep at the sound of Susan's voice. He remained in place. Susan presumed it was not to startle Peter any further. Peter wildly looked at her; he gripped his elbows, keeping himself protected. He seemed terrified. She took a deep breath.

"Edmund, Lucy, and me," she gestured to the three of them, "We are all safe, and we will keep you safe too." Peter looked at her, then Lucy, and lastly, Edmund. His expression melted into a deep despair, and tears poured down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Peter," Susan muttered sadly.

To Peter's sudden sobs, Lucy had woken up from her curled position on the couch. It had only taken her a couple of seconds to situate herself with the situation. She jumped to her feet to go over to Peter's side, but Susan held out her hand to her, silently pleading with her to use caution.

Lucy halted, waiting for her leadership. She nervously took a hold of Susan's hand. Susan squeezed her hand reassuringly. _We can do this. We can help Peter. We have to_.

It was Edmund who quietly got to his feet as Peter cried.

"Peter," Edmund called to him delicately. "Pete, we are going to come closer to you. Is that okay with you?"

Edmund did not move an inch closer until Peter, after some time, managed a small "yes".

Very slowly, Edmund was the first to go over to Peter. He knelt down next to the bed. Susan followed his lead, and she and Lucy went over; Lucy sat at the end of the bed as Susan stood between her and Edmund. Hearing Peter cry was like a punch in Susan's gut every passing moment. She hated that she could not take his pain away.

"Is it alright if I hug you, Peter?" Susan asked.

All she wanted to do was pull him into her arms and tell him that she will keep him safe. She wanted to push all of the nightmares away. She would just have to settle for hugging him to offer him some comfort instead and to comfort herself as well.

Edmund had the right idea: asking Peter was the best option. If he could not or did not respond, then the answer was presumed to be no. They could not take any chances. He was already so fragile as it was.

Peter never did respond verbally. He opened his mouth as if attempting the words but no clear sound came out. Instead, he just hugged himself and cried. They just had to sit there, watching. Susan took Lucy's hand again. Lucy flashed a sad smile.

"What can we do to help?" Edmund asked, a desperate edge to his voice.

Peter just cried harder and turned away from them. His hands shielded his face.

If watching him cry like this was this painful for her, she could not imagine what Peter was feeling himself. Seeing him like this made her want to be sick. He deserved so much more than this.

Susan hoped he felt all the love the three of them felt towards him. They told him words of comfort, but nothing worked. His cries kept coming, and the three of them remained with him until his tears were spent, leaving him vulnerable and numb.

He did not even say a word. The cries seemed to drain every inch of the energy out of him. He was terribly quiet as he eventually lied back in his bed. He did not go back to sleep. He just laid there.

Eventually with his permission, Susan moved next to him and gingerly played with his hair with her fingers like their mother used to do them when they were young.

His eyes were puffed and raw. A few silent tears slipped down his cheeks every once in a while.

"You are safe here," Edmund promised softly to Peter. "We are not going anywhere." Edmund kept whispering other variations of his promises of love and comfort.

None of them slept for the rest of the night. They just stayed around Peter, offering him as much comfort as they could.

And when dawn came, no one felt eased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you for reading and for all the support! Next round of chapters will be posted today, and I will post the next ones as soon as I can. Thank you!**


	23. No Rest For The Haunted

The next day continued as painful as the last. Peter did not seem able to remain calm for too long before panic and fear gripped him, refusing to let go. That night, Peter stopped sleeping. Granted, no one knew that Peter had chosen to stop sleeping at this point. Edmund, along with everyone else just assumed that the nightmares had kept him awake for most of the night. While that was true for his first nights in the Cair, the night Peter could hardly spoke and only could sob must have had enough because he stopped trying to fall asleep at all. But Edmund didn't know about this until later.

Instead, Peter had left his room after his siblings had fallen asleep and came back before any of them had awoken. Their guards, of course, noticed but thought that Edmund and his sisters knew about him leaving.

By the time the day started, Edmund knew something was wrong. Not that Peter had been able to get much sleep before, but getting none was another thing entirely. The dark circles under his eyes only intensified. His quiet demeanor was fidgety and nervous. His eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and his shaking was only worse.

Peter kept to himself more than usual the entire day, only barely speaking when someone addressed him directly. Otherwise, he was silent. He had to stop trying to eat some of his food because his shaking had intensified. He discarded it with disdain.

The day had gone on the same as the last days where Peter would try to spend time with them, but ultimately needed to rest a lot. Most of that involved "attempts" to sleep or lying down somewhere.

It was not until that night did Edmund realize what was happening. This time, Edmund could not fall asleep with his own nightmares haunting him terribly, and so when Peter left his room, Edmund followed him.

Peter had settled himself in the library when Edmund had crept in behind him. A single candle lit the table Peter sat at, and a book was left astray on the table near Peter. Once Edmund had ventured a good distance into the room, he suddenly realized that he would have to approach this very cautiously not to startle Peter. _How am I going to do that? _

Luckily, Peter saved him from having to figure it out.

"You are a terrible sneak, Ed," Peter said aloud, startling Edmund himself. For the first time, Edmund thought Peter sounded more like his old self when he said this.

"How did you know it was me?" Edmund asked as he made himself walk into the light and sit down across Peter. "And I'll have you know I have snuck up on plenty of people in the past."

Peter leaned back in his seat, saying, "It could not have been anyone who knew you well then." A touch of amusement found its way to his voice. It was so odd hearing Peter talk now because although Edmund knew he was joking around, there was no inflection in Peter's voice to indicate it to a great degree. It was barely a change in his voice. "Besides, I have always made sure I was attuned to you three moving around at night, in case you needed me."

_How long have you looked after us? How long have you put us before yourself?_

Instead of voicing this question, Edmund decided to tackle the problem directly in front of him.

"You are exhausted," Edmund stated, not even posing it as a question for him to deny.

Surprisingly, he agreed with Edmund, "Yes, I really am."

"Then why don't we go to sleep?" Edmund gestured back the way they came. Peter just shook his head. "Why not?"

"I see her."

Edmund knew what that was like. Being with her once was awful enough, but she never seemed to stop showing up in Edmund's nightmares for the longest time. It was dreadful to relive experiences at night, or worse, have fears concoct a nightmare that did not even happen.

"But not sleeping cannot be a solution. You are only hurting yourself more."

"It does not seem to matter what I do," Peter reluctantly agreed.

Edmund was unnerved about how calm Peter was when he was speaking. But he did look terribly tired. Maybe the tiredness outweighed his emotions for the time being. Edmund also noticed that this was the longest the two of them had been able to speak since Peter's rescue. He hoped that part was not from lack of sleep.

"What do you mean?"

"If I sleep, she is there. When I am awake, I still remember, just differently than when I sleep," Peter answered uncomfortably. "It does not seem like I will be getting a respite any time soon." The exhaustion weighed heavily on the last few words.

"The nightmares will pass. It will just take time," Edmund reassured.

As soon as he said it, he knew Peter did not believe him. Peter looked away, crossing his arms. Maybe he was too scared to believe him. Edmund remembered what it was like to relive those memories or what could have been.

"She cannot hurt you anymore."

With a sigh, Peter asked sincerely, "Did me saying that to you when you dreamt of the White Witch ever help?"

"Sometimes", Edmund admitted. "Only because it was coming from you. I could tell myself you would protect me, and you did. But I already failed you on that front."

Peter blinked at him in quiet puzzlement.

"You saved me, Edmund."

"But—"

"Without you, I would still—" his voice caught in his throat. In a shaky tone, he regained his composure, "You rescued me. You did not fail at all," Peter said carefully, almost as if he was afraid Edmund would break.

The two just looked at each other, studying the other. Edmund was too tired to argue with Peter about this. Peter just could not understand. He had always rescued Edmund in time. Edmund had failed to do that. Peter would not be suffering like he was now if Edmund had reached him sooner. How he did not see this, Edmund did not understand.

After a brief pause, Edmund changed the subject back to sleep and off of himself. He knew Peter would notice the shift, but Peter, thankfully, left it alone.

Edmund said, "The nightmares should become less frequent." Edmund nearly sighed to himself as he added, "But being held against your will never really leaves you entirely."

"Especially by the White Witch", Peter agreed sadly.

After some time of silence, Edmund had carefully molded over potential approaches on how to get Peter to sleep, before ultimately deciding just to ask, "What can I do to get you to go to sleep?"

"I would rather not."

"That option is not on the table," Edmund countered. "You cannot deprive yourself of sleep." He paused before he teased, "I can always get Susan to take care of you if you would rather that."

Susan was one of the very few people who could get anyone to take care of themselves, whether it was their desire or not. Getting her would be calling in the big guns. The only bigger guns Edmund could call would be Oreius. But Edmund knew he did not need to threaten that yet.

An almost smile pricked at Peter's lips, and he just said, "There is no need to trouble her as well." He paused before honestly admitting, "I am really tired, yet, the thought of sleeping just shakes me to my bones."

"How about we take it one step at a time? We go back to your room, you lay down—"

"Can you sleep next to me?" Peter shamefully interjected, averting his eyes. Granted, they had slept next to each other in the same bed plenty of times. With their armies, when nightmares were too bad. Why this time, he was ashamed to ask, Edmund could only speculate.

"Certainly, we will lie down, and we will be able to go to sleep," Edmund continued. Peter had a grateful expression that switched to frustration by the end of Edmund's sentence.

"Falling asleep is hardly the issue," Peter grumbled.

"And I'll be right beside you if you need me at all," Edmund finished with a smile on his face, extending his hand out to Peter as he arose from his seat.

After a look of contemplation, Peter gave in, probably deciding that he was too tired to win the fight and reached out to take Edmund's hand.

He stopped though.

Even pulling his hand back as he said, "And you promise you will not leave me, right?"

"I promise, Pete."

With a weary expression, Peter got to his feet, taking Edmund's hand.

The two ventured back to Peter's room once more to try their hand at sleeping.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Falling asleep went as well as one could expect. Horrifically.

When Peter woke up screaming because he was certain he felt Jadis carving into him again, he jolted his siblings awake with him. He clutched his scarred letters and felt the cold sweat all around him. Her laugh still echoed against his ears.

Peter scrambled out of his bed on unsteady legs, trembling everywhere. He was vaguely aware he heard his siblings trying to talk to him, but they just sounded so far away.

_She is not here, she is not here_, he told himself. _She won't hurt you again_. But the hurt was beyond the physical pain. It was in his chest, buried in his heart. It was to his very soul.

All he wanted to do was scream and sob. His chest constricted. His trembling only worsened. His three siblings had all ventured closer to him, and he felt his anger boiling. He was trying to keep calm himself, but there was no stopping his frustration.

_I just want it to stop. All of it_. 

He did not want to keep waking up afraid or be terrified when awake either.

"This is what I was telling you," Peter snapped at Edmund much more harshly than he wanted to. His voice cracked when he spoke. "This is why I didn't want to go to asleep."

"I am so sorry, Peter," Edmund managed. He looked just as miserable as Peter felt.

"You need sleep," Susan stood her ground, taking Peter's attention off Edmund. "You cannot avoid that."

"I can't avoid any of this!" Peter exasperatedly yelled.

They nearly flinched at his yelling, yet there was no stopping his words.

"None of you understand what it is like to constantly have to remind yourself what is real and what isn't. You do not understand what it is like to remember every painful thing she did and still hear her words in my head as loudly as you three talk to me now. You don't understand."

Peter was panting at the end, his frustration lingered on in his voice. He did not remember the last time he raised his voice at any of them. It had to be years. It made him feel much worse about all of it.

"Help us understand," Lucy nudged. "We just want to help." After his anger was spent, all was left was this terrible grief and sadness.

"I don't think you can," Peter's emotions were winning this battle.

"What can we do to stop you from reliving it during the day—" Susan started to ask.

"No, no, every time I close my eyes, I feel her." His overwhelming emotions boiled over. "Every time I try to sleep, I hear her. I see her. I relive my worst memories with her." His fingers clawed into his hair. He went to his knees, curling within himself. He quietly admitted, "I just want it to stop."

Edmund ventured nearer to him. He approached Peter as if he was a wounded animal. A gentleness surrounded him that was reserved for just the three of them. Peter desperately craved comfort. He silently begged Edmund to provide it. Edmund knelt right in front of Peter.

"I know, Peter, I know," Edmund said delicately. "I felt the same way. But do you remember what you told me?" Peter hardly heard him at all, as he held himself between his arms. "You told me—promised me that within these walls, in our home, she could never hurt me again."

"I didn't know she would come back—"

"But Peter, listen to me, in this castle, she will never be able to hurt you again. Okay, you are safe here always." He paused only for a moment. "And these nightmares are just that, dreams," Edmund continued. "Everything from now on is just echoes of what happened. She will never hurt you again. Not ever."

Peter was quiet for a long while. He was not sure he believed Edmund at all. That statement was what he believed last time. He had told himself and his siblings countless times that Jadis was gone, only for her to return and hurt Peter in so many ways.

Instead, he tried to regain some sense of control. Before he attempted for long, Lucy nearly bulldozed him over as she engulfed him in a hug.

"Lucy," Susan nearly hissed.

After a moment of bated breath, Peter was able to breathe again and hug Lucy back.

"I love you, Peter, so much," Lucy whispered to him. "So much. This should never have happened. I love you."

"I love you too, Lu," Peter whispered back.

She kept whispering other words of love. And Peter could admit, they made him feel much better than he did prior. Holding her in his arms, feeling her love, and hearing her words, made him feel warmer and lighter. He held onto her tightly, hoping she would feel how much he needed her.


	24. Raw Emotions

After a while, Peter calmed down once more to a state of stability. His emotions were not gone, just kept at bay. He felt drained and miserable. He had yelled at the three people who meant the most in the world to him, and despite his accepted apology, he felt no better.

He never should have lash out like that. It was not their fault. _It's mine_, Peter's brain supplied. And right then, he didn't have the energy to combat that kind of thinking. It just rested there, allowing him to add guilt and shame on top of his prior misery.

Once they were all calm enough, the four of them ventured to the garden to eat their breakfast, which Peter appreciated. He hated being inside for too long. It just made him feel trapped. Therefore, eating outside made him not as grouchy as he was. Still, he mostly remained silent. He was afraid of only making things worse by speaking. His siblings allowed him to remain quiet, only attempting to get him involved a few times when they spoke.

He caught each of them giving him a concerned look more than a few times. _They shouldn't have to worry about me like this. It isn't fair_.

After they had finished eating and their daily duties were about to take hold, Ari fluttered over to them, landing on Susan's outstretched palm.

"Your majesties," Ari addressed with a bow before saying, "I beg your pardon, Queen Susan. The centerpieces you had asked for are ready for your approval."

"What centerpieces?" Susan puzzled.

In a flash of memory, Peter remembered precisely what it was for. It had felt like so long ago. Peter was the one to answer in a quiet voice, "For Lucy's birthday."

The silence that followed was deafening.

They all had seemed surprised by this. By their expressions, Peter could tell they had nearly forgotten the celebration they had been planning before he was captured.

Susan stumbled a bit on her words at first but managed to say, "I'll see to them later. Thank you, Ari." Ari awkwardly bowed and departed.

There was a few seconds of silence before Lucy admitted, "I forgot all about it." Edmund and Susan both nodded in agreement. After some thought, Lucy said, "I think it would be best if we do not have a celebration this year. We all have other things we should focus on other than a party."

"Please, don't cancel it on my account," Peter said.

"But Peter—"

"It is your birthday, Lu," Peter was going to stand his ground on this. He had ruined enough things; he did not need to be the reason Lucy did not have a birthday celebration. "We have to celebrate it."

"I do not think it would be the best idea either," Edmund agreed with Lucy. Peter was surprised to hear him say that. "It would give us all time to rest. We will do an extra special one next year."

"No," Peter disagreed. "We should have one for her actual birthday."

"Peter," Edmund said gently, "Why add to what you are dealing with? Lucy already thinks we should not. We can just have one next year."

"Because if we cannot even have a birthday party for Lucy, then how are we going to resemble normalcy again? We cannot just cancel her birthday because it is easier not to do it."

"What if it only makes everything worse?" Lucy asked. "You are going through a lot, Peter. It's not fair for us to expect you to do a birthday celebration so soon."

"What is not fair is you not being able to enjoy your birthday because of me," Peter said.

"Because of what the White Witch did," Susan corrected. Peter nearly glared at her. "At least, be accurate when you say something like that. It is her fault. Not ours and certainly, not yours."

"Fine," Peter grumbled, causing her to smirk. Returning his attention back to Lucy, he asked, "Can we have this party for you?"

"Are you sure you will be alright if we do?"

"No," Peter answered honestly. None of them liked that answer. "But that is no reason not to celebrate. It is important to celebrate and be happy when we can be."

Lucy looked at each of them individually, lastly at Peter, before her face lit up and she excitedly said, "All right, we can do it!"

For the first time since the White Witch took him, he smiled.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oreius, can I have a word?" Peter asked nervously. "If you do not mind." It had been the first time Peter had tried to speak to Oreius alone since before his capture. Having him towering over him was daunting, to say the least. Peter could not help how his nerves twisted, despite knowing that Oreius loved him and would never hurt him.

"For you, my King, I never mind," Oreius said with a smile as he came over to Peter. Peter fidgeted nervously with his hands, causing Oreius to say, "Easy, King Peter. I am by your side, and I will help you. Take a steady breath." Peter complied before he explained what happened with his siblings in the morning.

"I yelled at them, Oreius," Peter admitted shamefully after telling his story. "The three people whom I love with all I have, and I yelled at them when all they were trying to do was help me."

"They understand that your frustration is not with them," Oreius said.

"That is no excuse," Peter said. "I never should have yelled at them."

"Your fears are very real ones, my King. It is not unreasonable for you to wish to not relive them." Peter looked down. Oreius placed his hand on his shoulder before saying, "Your brother and sisters love you very much. Nothing has changed. They accepted your apology because they know you did not mean them harm."

"How do I stop it?" Peter asked in a quiet voice. "How do I stop reliving every moment?"

Oreius paused to contemplate before answering, "Find your new normal. Do things you enjoyed once before. Find places that make you feel comfortable."

"Most things feel rather overwhelming," Peter admitted shamefully.

"That is fine that they are," Oreius's answer surprised him. "They will not be forever. Break down what you are doing so they are not as tolling."

"I am not sure I can," Peter said.

"I know you can," Oreius said. "Tell me, your majesty, what is something you like to do."

Peter knew Oreius already knew these answers, but Peter answered anyway, "I liked sword fighting." He paused. "Now, I am not so sure I do."

Oreius's face shifted to sympathy and understanding.

"We will try it when you feel more comfortable, and if you do not like it anymore, we will find something else."

"I find that unlikely," Peter pointed out. "I am High King. I have to lead our armies." He sighed. "And if I cannot lead, then what good am I as King?"

"You and I both know there is more to being King than leading battles," Oreius countered easily. "Besides, as I have said before, try not to deal with everything at once. Start with what I tell you. Worry about armies later. Tell me something else you enjoy."

"I like the beach," Peter offered. "And riding a horse." A small smile was placed on his face when he thought of Susan as he added, "I like Archery too."

"Do what you love, and let it ease you into a new routine. Then I encourage you to seek what calms you when you feel overwhelmed. Let them anchor you," Oreius encouraged.

"I will try," Peter replied as they continued on their walk. Peter thought for a moment, before quietly asking, "Should I be talking more about what I went through?"

"Do you wish to?" Oreius asked calmly.

"I do not know," Peter admitted. "I do not want to cause anyone else pain." Oreius smiled sadly at him, startling Peter.

"Your mind is always on how to ease those around you. Know that while being mindful of others is an admirable quality you possess, if you wish to share your experiences, you have every right to. The same goes for if you do not."

"I am rather ashamed of the entire thing," Peter admitted quietly. "I do not want you all to view me differently. If you knew the truth, you—you would not think I was—you would be ashamed of me too."

To this, Oreius stopped abruptly. Peter had taken a few steps ahead of him. Peter returned in front of him.

"Peter," Oreius spoke with such a sadness; it nearly overwhelmed Peter right there. "My sweet King." Oreius placed his hand on Peter's cheek, causing Peter to flinch. Oreius removed his hand immediately.

"I am sorry—I am not afraid of you—I—I don't know why I do that—"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Oreius said kindly. "Not now, not ever." Orieus placed his other hand on Peter's shoulder before he continued, "Do not hate how you endured the White Witch. You survived. Forgive yourself for reacting as any of us would have. You are worthy of the love and your throne as you have always been.

"You do not know what happened."

"I do not need to," Orieus said. "I still know I am right." Peter frowned. "And I love you today as I have since the day we met."

With a small smile, Peter remembered seeing Oreius when they first entered Aslan's camp five years prior. Peter barely had the courage to lift his sword to Oreius and ask to see Aslan, and after the Battle of Beruna, Oreius had become like a second father to Peter. They both knew it to be true.

"Thank you," Peter quietly answered. "Your kind words mean a lot."

"I mean every word."


	25. A New Understanding

"Your majesty, your brother has been through a great deal," Lady Wan began.

Edmund had sought Lady Wan out when he did not know how to cope with his failure at helping Peter. Edmund did not expect to see Peter react like that in the morning. He was angry and distressed. It pained Edmund terribly to see Peter that devastated again.

"I know."

"As have you." Her words nearly startled him. "None of you have been taking care of yourselves properly."

He remembered Susan's bloodshot eyes and dark circles, Lucy's frowns and limited excitement. Even himself, he was exhausted all the time, anxious and on edge.

Despite these memories, he said, "We have been doing fine."

"You have been getting by," she insisted.

"That is not why I came here," Edmund redirected.

"Very well, your majesty," she stopped all her motions. Looking him straight in the eye. "How may I assist you?"

Edmund shifted his feet, averting his eyes. He hated admitting this.

"I feel like I only make things worse," Edmund admitted.

"How so, King Edmund?"

"I just feel like everything I am trying is not helping him and only freaking him out more," Edmund tried to explain. "For instance, this morning, I convinced him to go to sleep last night, and when he did, he dreamt of her again."

Lady Wan shook her head at him, saying, "You cannot blame yourself for his dreams."

"But he blamed me," Edmund answered. "He was so upset. He has been miserable all day too. So have I."

"Do you think he was actually angry with you?"

"No," Edmund admitted. "He is just angry at this entire situation."

"He had gotten some of the sleep he needed," she said. "This sounds like you have helped him."

"But I am not making it better either," Edmund said.

"Pardon my boldness, your majesty, but that is just not true," she answered. He was surprised to hear she just blatantly tell him he was wrong. What could she possibly think he was doing right? "Anyone who has eyes can see the improvement King Peter has made in the past week. He is far from how he was when you first brought him to my tent."

He thought she had a point. Peter had made great strides so far, even if it felt overwhelming. He was getting through days; he was learning how to be with them and with people again. He actually spoke again.

"Besides, you cannot allow him to harm himself just because he is afraid. He needs to care for himself, plain and simple. It is our job to ensure that he does," she continued with a reassuring smile. "Trust me, my King, there is not one person in this castle who does not want King Peter to be happy and healthy again."

Her kind reassurances warmed his heart. He did not doubt their devotion and love for Peter. He knew she was speaking the truth in her words.

"Thank you for your words," Edmund said. After a brief pause as Edmund picked up book to fiddle with, he asked, "Do you think he is—recovering the way he should be?"

"His majesty is doing quite well, all things considering," she pointed out. "If I was concerned, I would have told you and your sisters by now."

While he was not exactly sure that she would tell him and his sisters, he did not press it. He figured she would tell him only after she told Oreius and if they were genuinely afraid for Peter.

"Have you checked any of his injuries recently? I know he took the cordial, but I am worried."

"He has not let me attempt to look since the first time I tried," Lady Wan answered. "He assured me that he would come to me if anything worsened." She crossed her arms. "Not that I am fond of that arrangement, but he asked it of me, and therefore, I will oblige."

"But you are our healer. Shouldn't you make him—"

"Your majesty, I could not make the High King do a thing he did not want to," she pointed out. "Besides, I do not take it personally that he doesn't wish for my help. He is just trying to protect himself."

"Protect himself? From you?" Edmund asked; puzzlement evident in his voice.

"Protect himself from what has happened," she replied. "I'll ask you this, has he shown anyone the aftermath of his injuries?" He shook his head. "Precisely. Concealing them protects him from facing the physical damage that was done."

"The remaining scars," Edmund provided. "The ones the cordial could not heal."

Lady Wan saddened. "And that must be terrible for him to face."

"How can I help?" Edmund asked.

"When he is ready, he will show you what that rotten Witch has done to him. In the interim, just try to make him feel normal again."

"We are beyond going to normal," Edmund confessed. He remembered the panic in Peter every time he woke up. The small things set him off. Most of the time, it felt like sitting next to a bomb. The worst part was that Peter was trying so hard not to freak out. He was trying to be himself, and every time, he was only suffering for it.

"It only feels like that right now," Lady Wan reassured. "Start small with him. Something you might think he would enjoy to do or something he once did. Anything to prevent his experiences with the Witch from being the only thing on his mind."

Edmund thought it over carefully. It could not be something that was stressful, but something that would occupy him. His mind lingered over to Lucy's birthday.

"Globis asked for my assistance on dessert choices for Lucy's party. I could ask him if he wants to help," Edmund offered.

Lady Wan's face lit up as she said, "Hearing that warms my heart. If I could have any of you eat more, I could rest easier at night."

Edmund chuckled before saying, "I'll get him to eat a bunch."

She clutched her heart dramatically, saying, "Now, please don't be saying that. My old heart cannot take such thrill." Edmund grinned, loving Lady Wan's way of encouragement.

"Thank you, Lady Wan," he said.

"Always, My King."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Pete," Edmund called out after him as Oreius was departing from his side. A small smile found its way to his face at the sight of Edmund, which did make Edmund feel a bit better already. "Walk with me?" Peter nodded, and the two aimlessly walked down the hall as Edmund said, "I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition, Ed?" Peter asked quietly, fidgeting with his hands briefly.

"One that involves Lucy's birthday," Edmund said, earning a return of Peter's smile. "Globis has asked me to decide on desserts for her party, and I could think of no one I would rather do this with more than with you."

Peter's face turned a bit red at this as he nodded, before he scratched his head, coming to a stop.

"I want to," Peter said almost shamefully. "I was actually going to rest for a bit now. Is there a way we could do it later in the day?"

"Certainly," Edmund reassured. Peter's relief was evident, as his shoulders relaxed and he stopped fidgeting with his hands. "Whenever you are ready, come find me, and we will go see Globis together." Edmund paused before saying, "Do you want me to go with you upstairs?"

"I think I will manage," Peter said, shifting his eyes away from Edmund. He seemed to be searching for something with his mind, more like contemplating. When he finally did look back at Edmund, he asked, "Actually, could you walk up with me?"

"Sure, Pete."

The two began their way. Edmund could feel the uncertainty radiating off Peter. He looked like he was eager to say something, but he just refused to speak. Edmund was not going to press him either.

They were about half way there when Peter said, "Ed." He paused, gathering himself before continuing. "I wanted to apologize for earlier." This caught Edmund off guard. "I never should have snapped at you like that. Most certainly, never should have yelled. I am sorry, and I will try to not let it happen again."

"Oh, Peter," Edmund said. "You do not have to apologize again. I am the one who is sorry."

"What could you be apologizing for?"

"For not being able to help you more," Edmund said.

They completely stopped walking as Peter said, "You are not the problem." He crossed his arms, turning away just a bit. "I am." He sharply turned back, saying, "Before you say I am not, I know I am. I am the one overreacting to everything."

"I don't think you are overreacting, Pete," Edmund reassured. "You are just reacting to what you are experiencing and experienced."

"But my reactions shouldn't involve yelling at the three of you."

Edmund shrugged, saying, "I will not speak for our sisters, but I am pretty sure we all understand." Peter frowned at the word understand, and Edmund quickly added, "We understand that your reactions are not because of us, and when you are ready, you can help us understand the rest of it too."

To this, Peter hugged Edmund. It caught him off-guard, taking Edmund's breath away. He was not expecting that at all. Peter held him tightly and warmly. It was the first time Peter had hugged him and was not in a high distressed situation. When Peter pulled away, he looked at his arms as if he was unsure about the hug he just gave. All the same, he had a gentle smile on his face.

"Thank you, Ed," Peter said. "I do not think I could manage without you."

"You would," Edmund said. "But I feel the same way about you, Pete."

The two finished the distance to Peter's bedroom, and Edmund felt immensely better after talking with Peter.

"Thank you for walking with me, Ed,'' Peter said. They departed ways, but Edmund felt a new hope.

Things may not be going back to the way they were, but he was hopeful for what was to come. Peter could do this. Peter could become whole once more, and in turn, so would they.


	26. A Moment of Fun and Peace

Startling awake, Peter was shaking, unsure if he was still trapped in Jadis's castle or not.

"What—where am I?" Peter asked, disoriented. It took a second for his eyes to readjust. This time, Edmund and Lucy were both in his room, recently coming over to him due to his abrupt waking.

"Easy, Pete, you are just in your room."

Peter took a shaky breath, his body trembling. When was this going to stop? All he was desperate for was just a break. Just to give him some time to breathe.

He looked outside; it looked barely a few hours passed dawn. That did not make sense. It was just beginning to be the afternoon when he had fallen asleep.

Peter's puzzlement must have been evident because Edmund provided, "You slept through the night."

"We did not wish to wake you," Lucy added brightly. Lucy smiled warmly at him. There did not seem like there was disappointment in Edmund's tone either.

Peter said all the same, "I am sorry about sleeping through helping you with Globis."

Edmund smiled at him before saying, "Do not worry, I waited for you. We shall do it today if you feel up to it."

Peter did not think he himself looked well off in any regard, but he was noticing that neither did Edmund. He looked like he barely slept. Exhausted and worn.

"Are you feeling alright, Edmund?" Peter asked.

Edmund looked away before slightly nodding, saying, "I am just fine."

Peter did not believe him much at all. Edmund was always so convincing to everyone else with his lies about his well-being. Peter was just grateful he could see through it.

"Have you been sleeping? You look awfully tired," Peter pointed out not unkindly.

Lucy chuckled before agreeing, "See, Edmund, it was not just me who thought so." Edmund just rolled his eyes. Peter smiled a bit at this.

"You're both very funny," Edmund said exasperatedly. "I am fine, trust me."

And Peter did trust him, completely and absolutely. But he made a note to keep a better eye on Edmund. Granted, Oreius would scold him for trying to take on too much, but when was caring about his siblings' wellbeing ever a crime?

When they were all dressed and the sun was well within the sky, Peter and Edmund proceeded down to the kitchens where Globis had been baking for what looked like a few hours: desserts of every flavor and size mounded on the tabletops.

"Oh, my Kings!" Globis rustled as he came over and provided a bow. "Come, come," he invited, gesturing with his hands to beckon them closer. "There are plenty of desserts for you each to try."

At first, Peter thought the idea of him eating any of the desserts he once enjoyed was rather odd for him. Nonetheless, he stared down the desserts. There were cakes and cookies; all designed and probably tasted delicious. But Peter felt uncertain to even start. He could admit that the amount of desserts was a bit overwhelming too.

It was not until Globis said, "Taste them all, or taste none of them. Tell me which you prefer, and I will make them for Queen Lucy's celebration" that Peter shook out of his stupor.

_For Lucy, this is for Lucy_. He reminded himself. With that in mind, he found himself able to take a small cookie and bite it. It was delicious.

"I like this one," Peter said to Globis, and the jolly faun laughed.

"To hear you say as such warms my heart, your majesty," Globis replied. Peter smiled at his joyfulness and kept trying different desserts. Some Edmund had suggested after he tasted them. Some Peter was actually able to grab himself.

Edmund was smiling as the two of them talked about Lucy's party with Globis, allowing the sweet faun to rave about his excitement. By the near end, the two of them had eaten plenty and were quite decided in which they liked for the celebration. Globis was well content, clearing the table and bragging—telling his staff which of his desserts his Kings liked.

Only towards the end did Peter notice how uncomfortable Edmund was looking. He was clearly lost in thought. Peter did not know if it was just paranoia, but he felt like it was about him. Everything seemed to be.

Just before Globis was taking the plate of cupcakes away, Peter chose one. Globis did not mind, and Edmund did not seem to notice. Peter promptly used his finger to get some icing and wiped it on Edmund's cheek, startling him out of his thoughts. He nearly tripped over his chair, looking surprised.

Peter could not help but laugh. Edmund looked rather ridiculous now with a patch of blue icing coating his cheek and his surprised expression. It was a bit uncomfortable in Peter's chest to laugh, but he could not stop doing so. Instead, Edmund joined him; a laugh cracking out of his mouth as he grabbed some cake icing. But Peter was prepared. He was quick to his feet.

"Stay away from me with that," Peter warned.

"I require retribution," Edmund declared rather mockingly diplomatic. "It is only just."

There was a pause where the two just were amusingly smiling at each other. Then they both moved at the same time. Edmund was coming towards him as Peter grabbed a hold of another bout of icing.

Edmund marked Peter's temple with icing whereas Peter managed to place his handful of icing all over Edmund's mouth. Peter laughed as Edmund wiped his face.

"I am going to get you for that," Edmund promised.

"You are going to have to catch me first," Peter countered.

He took off towards more desserts that Globis had yet to discard. Edmund only took a minor delay, probably to grab more dessert, before coming after him. Just as Peter grabbed the remaining amount of a pie, Edmund hit him square in the face with some custard. Peter chucked a few gooey chunks of pie at Edmund.

The two of them rounded the counters, dodging and throwing the different amounts of desserts until the two of them were rather coated, and the two proceeded to plop on the ground, laughing about it.

Peter felt so light and warm. He did not remember the last time he and Edmund had played like that. It was long before the White Witch even captured Peter.

Peter was still laughing when he said, "That was fun."

"Agreed," Edmund replied with enjoyment in his voice. "I did not know you still had such poor aim though."

"Poor aim?" Peter asked jokingly appalled. "I managed to hit you plenty. Your current appearance is proof enough."

"That is only because I let you hit me."

"Sure, you did," Peter chuckled as he nudged Edmund's arm. Edmund returned the gesture with a smile.

It felt good to laugh and have fun with Edmund. It really did. Peter noticed even Edmund looked like he had enjoyed himself. He looked like more of himself as well, which was all that Peter wanted anyway. Edmund looked around, causing Peter to survey the room as well. They had quite clearly trashed the kitchen with desserts splattered a muck.

"I suppose we best start cleaning up," Edmund said after a while. He got to his feet, holding his hand out to Peter, which he took, and helped him stand.

Peter and Edmund cleared the kitchen, despite Globis insisting that they did not need to. Granted, they should, or at least, Peter thought they should. They did trash the place after all.

All the same, they were finished, and once they were, Peter was left awfully tired.

Edmund noticed immediately, offering, "How about we wash up, and then you can rest for a bit?"

Peter panicked slightly at the mention of washing up, but after taking a deep breath and hoping Edmund did not notice the panic, he agreed to the plan.

The two returned to Peter's room to change and get the icing out of their hair and faces. Peter went his washroom, washing out the icing and cleaning his face. Luckily, as Peter was changing his clothes, Edmund quite deliberately went into the other room to wash his hair and face. Peter felt relief and guilt as he quickly changed his shirt before Edmund could come back in.

It was not that Peter did not want Edmund to see him, scars and all. Peter wanted to move passed it, get it over with, but every part of him was screaming for him not to. He was distorted and scarred by the same Witch who had tormented Edmund himself. It would only cause him pain to see Peter like this.

Besides, the carving of her name, Peter was not sure if Edmund could ever look at him the same way. What if he hated how Peter was degraded so much that he stopped loving Peter at all? Despite the fact that Peter told himself that it was his fears and insecurities talking, Peter could not allow himself to show Edmund. It was just too much.

When Edmund came back, a small smile was on his face.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Edmund offered.

_Yes! _Was Peter's thought. His answer was, "I'll be alright. Thank you."

He frowned, asking, "Are you sure?" Peter nodded. "Alright, Pete," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll be around if you need me." He gave an encouraging smile. As he was walking towards the door, he halted, saying, "Do not be afraid to need me."

"Thank you, Edmund," Peter said, and with that, his brother departed.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

At first, everything was going well. Peter lied down, still feeling warm and good from tossing desserts around with Edmund. He was resting on his side, seeing the sunlight still peering into the balcony glass doors. He did feel tired. This is the perfect time to rest, he told himself.

As he closed his eyes, he saw a flash go across his eyes. He snapped them open immediately. Nothing was there. An eerie feeling crept on his neck.

It reminded him of the times when he could not see who was coming to attack him when he was locked in the Witch's cell. Despite his ability to see this time, he could not shake the feeling of someone sneaking up on him.

He sat up slowly, observing his room. There was no one around. Not even a sound. He moved the blankets off himself. The sound of the rattling of chains caused him to stop. It sounded just like when he was trapped alone with only his cries and his shackles to make noises.

_No, you are not there_, he told himself. He looked around. _You are in your room, in the Cair_. 

But as he looked around his room, all he felt was the room was so much smaller. It was too confining. As panic started to grip him, he felt like the room was suffocating him. The moment he felt the coldness latch onto his skin, he knew he had to leave.

_I have to get out of here_, he frantically told himself.

He bolted to his feet and nearly raced out the door. He vaguely heard some guards call after him, but he did not stop. He just kept running, for fear if he stopped, he would completely fall apart.


	27. Desperate Times

Susan had been busy all day, deciding on most of the plans for Lucy's party and held court with Lucy while Edmund spent some time with Peter. It was only after court had ended did Edmund tell her that Peter was resting. She was able to give the reins over to Edmund as she went up to check on Peter.

She just wanted to see that he was sleeping well, and then she would be on to her lessons for the day. As she walked into his room, she immediately noticed that he was not in his bed.

"Peter?" She called out to him. He did not reply. She checked around his room, in his washroom, all around. "Peter?" Still, no response came.

He was supposed to be here. Why was he not here? Her nerves twisted as she went back outside of his room. None of their guards were nearby. That immediately concerned her. She ventured down the hall and down the steps before she saw Sir Darren.

"My good sir," she called to him. He immediately came to her, giving her a bow. "Have you seen King Peter?"

"I have not, my Queen," Sir Darren replied. "Shall I send someone to fetch him for you?"

She shook her head. "I am sure he is around here somewhere. Thank you, Sir Darren," she answered.

"My pleasure, your majesty."

Susan kept searching around, asking every person she ran into if they had seen Peter. No one had.

_Where could he have gone?_ She knew it had been a while since he had went to rest, but where could he have gone now? Someone had to have seen him, right?

Just as her nerves were at their boiling point, Captain Ver was the only person who had seen Peter.

"A few of the guards had come to me, concerned for the High King when he came out of his room. I saw him lying on the beach, Queen Susan." Captain Ver answered. "I sent Baye and Julian to remain near him until we could reach you or one of your royal siblings."

_Thank those two leopards for staying by his side_, Susan thought to herself. She felt much better just knowing that Peter was not entirely alone.

"Thank you, Captain," Susan replied.

Just before Susan left, Captain Ver warned, "My Queen, I urge you to use caution. Approach King Peter carefully."

"I appreciate your advice," Susan answered. Captain Ver bowed to her, and Susan was off to the beach. As Susan rounded the bend and passed the garden, she was becoming more nervous again. She climbed down the path that led to the beach. When she saw Peter, she halted every muscle in her body.

He was lying on his back on the sands, his feet in the water and the waves would make the water rush up to his stomach. He did not budge from the water coming to his waist.

What was he doing there? Was he hurt? She ran down the path, only slowing when she saw Baye and Julian sitting in the shade no more than ten yards away from him. Their heads peaked up to look at her. _If they are not rushing to his aid, surely, that had to mean he was at least not injured_, she told herself

When she was much closer, she proceeded slowly, trying not to startle him. As she approached him, he never looked at her. She spoke to make her presence known.

"Peter," she delicately said. "What are you doing out here?"

Luckily, he did not startle. Frankly, he did not even look like he registered that she spoke to him. He was just staring up in the skies. She was only a few feet away from him when she sat on the sand next to him.

"It was too suffocating in there," Peter's soft voice barely heard. When she looked at him, she saw he had already tilted his head and was looking at her. "Too trapping."

"Your room was?" Susan asked.

"It reminded me of my cell," he answered quietly. "I could not stay in there."

He was breaking her heart. He should not even have it in his vocabulary to say "his cell". He did not deserve to know this kind of pain. He seemed exhaustingly sad. All she wanted to do was take his pain away. But not even gentle words could heal such wounds.

"Do you feel better out here?"

"The water and the sand are warm. They help me not feel like I am with her right now," Peter admitted. He held out his hand to her. She immediately took it, making sure the gesture was gentle though.

"At least, we know a place that makes you feel a bit better," Susan said optimistically. Peter just nodded, tightening his hold on her hand. She squeezed it reassuringly. His tension in his grip loosened a bit.

"Are you going to make me go back inside?" He asked nervously as he sat up. His hair and back coated in sand now. He did not attempt to even wipe it away.

"Not unless you want to," She replied. She gave him her best smile. He just returned his attention back into the sea as if the answers to his problems were somehow there.

"I hate feeling like this," Peter confessed.

"Feeling like how?" Susan asked.

"Feeling like I cannot escape her," Peter answered gloomily. "Feeling like I am still her prisoner. Even when I am feeling better, she just drags me back down."

"You did escape her though," Susan said. He looked at her blankly. She continued, "Whether you accept it or not, you still have gotten out regardless. She cannot reach you here."

"Does not change that I keep reliving what I went through," Peter replied bitterly.

"No, you are right. It does not change that," She agreed sadly.

The two sat in silence for a while. Susan's hand held his, trying to provide some comfort to him. They both were looking out at the Eastern Sea when he spoke again.

"I am really tired, Su," he admitted.

She knew it was beyond just his physical exhaustion now. He was frustrated and drained. Rightfully so, she knew. It did not make the pain any less. He was still someone who suffered daily, someone who had to combat the demons in his sleep and in wakefulness. It was not fair. It truly was not.

"Why don't you try to rest now?" Susan offered. "You feel comfortable here, and I will stay with you. You might feel better if you try to sleep out here." At first, he looked at her as if she had three heads. Slowly, he seemed to contemplate the idea. He seemed nervous. "I will not go anywhere. I will be here if you need me at all," Susan promised.

Finally, Peter conceded with a nod.

"How about we get out of the water and you can rest in the sand up there?" She gestured away from the waves. She was just afraid he would get too cold after having his feet in the water, and it would only remind him of the Witch.

He did not even protest. She helped him move out of the water. He lied back down on the sand, and she sat down next to him.

"It's alright. I will stay here with you," She reassured.

"You promise she isn't here?" he asked, sounding so much younger than he was.

"She is not, and she is never going to be."

With a small nod, he closed his eyes, keeping his hand locked with hers.

Slowly, the tension left him, Susan gently played with his hair, brushing it out of his face. It seemed to soothe him as he eventually fell asleep. When Susan noticed this, she felt a relieved breath leave her.

As the two remained there, Susan thought more of Peter's discomfort at being inside. Perhaps, they could have dinner out here. Have a nice picnic. Keep him in the fresh and the warm air. It might make him feel better.

She committed to doing this. She beckoned Julian to get a few of her birds, and once they came, Susan sent the kitchens a request for them to have a picnic outside. She thought it would do them all some good for fresh air and perhaps have some fun.

She also sent the appropriate apologies to her tutors for the lessons she was not only late for, but also were going to miss entirely. This was well worth it though.

Peter was resting, and that was all that what mattered to her.


	28. A Worried Mind

Edmund and Lucy excitedly went down to the beach with a picnic basket from the kitchens and a few blankets. Well, Lucy was excited. Edmund seemed unsure, and he kept fiddling with one of the loose strings on the blankets he was holding.

As they made their way down to the beach, she saw Peter and Susan were sitting in the sand. Susan was talking as they approached. After noticing the two of them, Edmund seemed to be able to calm down a tad bit.

"Splendid!" Susan cut her previous sentence off. "I hoped Globis was able to make the adjustments for a picnic."

Lucy laughed, saying, "He certainly was thrilled at the challenge."

Edmund and Susan laid down the blankets before the four of them climbed on, and Lucy placed the basket down.

Lucy noticed Peter's calm demeanor. It was the first time he had a small smile on his face almost the entire time she had seen him. It was a pleasant change.

As the four of them discussed their days, Lucy could only smile when Peter claimed, "And I defeated Edmund in a dessert fight." He wore almost a smirk on his face.

Edmund laughed as he said, "That is not quite how I remember it."

"That's alright. I remember well enough for the both of us," Peter replied. They all laughed with one another, and for a moment, Lucy could pretend everything was as it once was.

The four of them were able to eat their food without a hitch, and Lucy was never more grateful. It was a start in the right direction, or at least, she hoped.

Following their meal, they even played in the ocean for a little while. They were in the midst of splashing each other until Peter suddenly froze. He completely stilled. Lucy did not know what provoked it, but she was not going to question him either. Edmund and Susan all stopped too.

Lucy was looking for any clear signs from Peter, but he really did not give one to her that she could tell. Instead, he quietly took a shuddering breath before he walked out of the water, stopping once he was out of the water's reach.

They followed him for a few steps when he said, "I'm all right. Just a memory of—" He faced them once more when he stopped speaking. He closed his eyes, taking an audible breath.

"We can talk about it," Susan offered gently. Lucy noticed Edmund pale incredibly at this sentiment.

Instead, Peter shook his head and opened his eyes. He must have seen their concerned faces, for he added, "I'll be all right." His face scrunched with effort as he resumed his thoughts. He offered no more explanations.

They did not resume their play in their ocean. They came closer to him, offering him some support. When it was quite clear that Peter was calmer, Lucy thought that while it was fun in the ocean, their fun did not have to end. They all had seemed like they were enjoying their time together. More time of fun could not be harmful.

Therefore, Lucy asked as happily as she could, "Can we build a sandcastle!?"

Peter smiled, and after taking her hand, she led him over to the perfect spot covered by some trees, and they did, in fact, enjoy the rest of their day.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oreius," Susan greeted. He looked up from his maps and smiled at her warmly. She had found him in their War room. She was glad to have a moment alone with him. She needed his help.

"My Queen," he said with a bow. He studied her for a moment before asking, "How are you faring?"

Susan entered the room further, feeling at odds with her emotions. On one hand, she felt great because her siblings were all managing better than they have been, but on the other hand, the uneasiness never left her. She was anxious all the time. It was suffocating in its own way.

"Just fine," she replied. Neither of them were convinced, but after a brief pause from him, she continued, "Peter and Lucy want to sleep outside tonight. Would you be able to make it safe for us to do so?"

"Of course, your majesty," Oreius replied.

Susan just hoped sleeping outside would not do more harm than good. Peter was still so fragile. Any thing that they thought was minuscule could set him off. They had to be delicate around him.

Besides, while the entire palace knew of Peter's nightmares and could most certainly hear his screams, she was nervous to have everyone see him panicked like that. She did not want him to feel any shame either. She did not want him to feel pressure to pretend to be better.

Oreius must have noticed her frown, for he asked, "What is on your mind?"

"I am worried about Peter," Susan answered honestly. To someone else, she may have thought to conceal her worry, but to Oreius, she did not feel the need.

"Try to pinpoint your worry and express it," Oreius suggested. "If you keep your pain to yourself, it will only keep building."

She sighed as she plopped down in the chair across from him.

"I am worried that Peter might be broken beyond repair," she confessed. Finally, she said it. After feeling a brief moment of relief, she immediately ducked her head away in shame. "I am a terrible person for saying such a thing." She crossed her arms in frustration. "I should be trying to help him get better, not doubting him."

As she took another breath to continue berating herself, Oreius intervened. "My Queen, take a pause. He is improving. It is evident in the trust he has with you and the progress he has made," Oreius supported. "I assure you, you are not a horrible person for being concerned if your brother will make a full recovery."

She took the suggested breath as she uncrossed her arms. "I feel awful for thinking it," she admitted. She thought more of it over and added, "Every time he makes progress, something else comes up. I am scared that he might not feel better."

"There is no shame in being afraid," Oreius said.

"Are you scared for him?" Susan asked, surprised to seem him falter. His stoic expression dispersed as he nodded.

"I am scared for all four of you," Oreius admitted in a gentle voice.

"I can understand Edmund. He has been distant and reserved about everything, but you do not have to be worried about Lucy and me. I'll take care of Lucy."

Oreius sadly smiled, asking, "And who is taking care of you?"

"I suppose I am," Susan replied.

"My Queen, you cannot hurt yourself in attempts to help your brothers or your sister," Oreius pointed out. "You are not sleeping. You are not eating either. None of you are."

She was trying not to get annoyed with him, but she was frustrated. Of course, she knew that. She knew no one was doing well. No one was communicating. It was all about just surviving.

"What am I supposed to do? They are not taking care of themselves, and neither of my brothers are talking to me," she confessed. She paused before she added, "Or to each other, actually."

The weight of her own words hit her like a ton of bricks. She did not know what to do with herself about them. It hurt her soul to have to say. She hated that she could not think of a way to help them in the way they needed.

She quietly admitted only to Oreius, "Peter has cried so many times. Edmund only is emotional in regards to Peter, but not about himself. It is like he has not processed his own turmoil." She sighed. "And Lucy, Lucy is just trying to keep everyone's spirits up, but I know it is weighing on her too. Seeing Peter like this. He was always the one who was the protector, you know. And now after the Witch, he is just so fragile."

"I am not sure it is unreasonable for all of you to be reacting the way you are," Oreius answered calmly. "I know it is difficult for me to see Peter like this as well, but I also know that it is only temporary."

"How are you certain?" Susan asked. "What if the Witch broke him beyond repair? What if he is never himself again? What if he is this afraid for the rest of his life?"

Oreius thought for a moment before asking, "What if you are correct about him?"

She was caught off guard by his question. She was not expecting him to ask such a question at all. She hated the possibilities. She hated seeing Peter tore down to his very fibers. Seeing him hurt, seeing him so terrorized.

She rarely ever saw Peter afraid before. He normally was able to conceal it well enough. Seeing it out in the open was terrifying her. What if she could not help? What if she was right and he would always be this skittish around everything? And that was exactly Oreius's question.

"I don't know what to do if he isn't like how he was before," Susan said. "It was always him and I. We watched out for Lucy and Edmund. Kept them and our Kingdom safe. He was someone I could turn to, and I am not sure how I could manage without him there for me."

Oreius came over to her, crouching down the best he could to be level with her.

"Your brother is still very much here," Oreius declared. "And I swear he is not going anywhere."

"But if he is not the same—"

"Does he need to be?"

She paused for a moment before replying, "No."

In the gentlest voice she had ever heard him use, he said, "He is forever changed, your majesty. I am terribly sorry for that to be the truth, but it is. Even if he acts the way he used to, he will never be who he was before."

She exhaled the breath she had been holding and tried to wrap her head around his words. She was scared. She did not want to have to do all of this alone. Certainly, she had Edmund and Lucy to help her. And I still have Peter too.

That was the truth. As horrible as what happened to him was, he was still there. He was the brother she loved more than anything. He still loved the three of them more than anything in the world; she knew that would never changed. He was still someone who tried to be the best he could be.

None of the things that made Peter someone she loved dearly had vanished. No matter what the White Witch did to him, he was still Peter. It was about time she accepted it; frankly, she thought he ought to know it too.

"But he is still Peter," she quietly accepted.

"Precisely," Oreius proudly smiled at her.

She had been letting her fears and insecurities twist the way she saw Peter. She was so afraid of what he had lost that she had lost sight of who he still was. She promised herself right there that she would strive every day forward to make sure Peter knew that he was still her beloved brother and that she loved him now and forever.

Susan did not wait to ask; she lunged into Oreius's arms, hugging him tightly. His warm embrace was reassuring and calming. It was what she needed. After hugging him, she felt significantly better than she had previously.

Once again, her relief was short-lived as her mind worked on the next problem she faced. "What should I do about Edmund?" Susan asked. "He is not talking to anyone about what he is feeling, and I do not think Peter and him have talked with each other about it."

"Try asking him about his experiences then," Oreius suggested. "He may not be ready still though. Seeing the White Witch again would not be an easy thing for him to process."

"Especially with only guessing what she had done to Peter," Susan agreed. "I still only know pieces of what he went through. Part of me wishes I knew more. Another part of me knows that what the Witch did—was beyond cruel—oh, Oreius, I wish none of this happened." Oreius only nodded in agreement.

After a brief pause, Oreius started, "My queen." He paused as he ruffled his beard slightly. "Remember that you do not have to bear all of this weight by yourself. If you need help or just someone to talk to, I am always here for you."

And she knew he always would be. She smiled brightly at him.

Being able to talk about her fears with him had made the world of a difference. She was able to release some of the burden she had been holding on to herself and able to express her doubts without judgment. It was something she had needed desperately. Something she did not think she needed, but truly did.

"I appreciate your council," Susan replied.

Not long after she parted ways with Oreius, she felt hopeful again. Reassured. She knew that her brother was still there. No matter if he was not exactly the same.

He was still Peter. The brother who would do anything for her and the brother she would gladly do the same for. He was one of the best people she knew, and that was never going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you for reading! I will post three chapters tonight and several more tomorrow. **
> 
> **Thank you for all the support and patience for these chapters! **


	29. Doubts

Sleeping outside was not the worst thing for Edmund to do. He was hopeful that the change would help ease his thoughts a bit. As he lied on his back, Peter was sleeping next to him, his hand slightly resting on Edmund's arm. He felt comforted by it all the same. He needed the reminder that Peter was still here just as much as Peter needed to know that Edmund was there.

His hopefulness for some peace had vanished the moment that he knew Peter was asleep. He had nothing to distract his anxious mind anymore. While Lucy had fallen asleep right next to Peter, Susan was on Edmund's other side. He knew Susan was still awake. He could tell by her breathing.

Maybe, she was trapped in her head like he was in his own. At least, she did not have images sheered into her brain to ensure that she never forgot them. He could not stop seeing flashes of the White Witch. How close she had come to killing him again.

Or her words. Her words were the worst part of it. They lingered and hooked into his soul.

_The brother you cherish died within these walls long before you ever got here._

How cruel The White Witch had been to Peter was unbearable to accept, and Edmund only knew a small piece of it. He only had the aftermath to go based on.

He still could not forget the way that Peter had flinched away from him either. How many times had he? How many times did Peter think that Edmund was going to save him and it was all a lie?

It hurt him dearly to know that Peter had suffered, thinking that it had been by Edmund's hand, even if he only believed it for a few moments. He had thought that Edmund was an illusion that was going to hurt him. How was that fair to Peter? How many times did he see Edmund like that?

Granted, Edmund was terrified to ask. As much as Edmund was dying to know what Peter had gone through—just to know, to truly know—he knew that it was unfair to ask Peter to share those details. Furthermore, without knowing the full truth, Edmund did not have to face it either.

Edmund could tell his intrusive thoughts that his guesses were ridiculous and he needed to wait until Peter told him the truth. But once Peter eventually did share the truth, then Edmund would have to deal with those truths and face them with no protection. On top of everything else, Edmund could not shake how guilty he felt for all of this.

The White Witch always felt like his responsibility. Her actions always made him feel like they were at least partly his fault. He had trusted her. He had tried to hurt his siblings with her help. No matter how much forgiveness he was given, that fact would never go away. At least, not for him.

"Edmund?" Susan's voice gently reached his ears. She was speaking softly, most likely trying not to wake up Peter or Lucy.

"Yeah?" Edmund replied, not moving from his position.

He heard her take an audible breath before saying, "If you need to talk about what you are feeling or any fears you might be feeling, please know, I always want to listen."

_It was almost as if she is a mind reader_, Edmund thought to himself. Although, it was not that far of a leap for her to assume. If his sisters felt what he was feeling, which he could presume they were, then Peter was almost constantly on their minds as he was on his.

"Thank you," Edmund said.

Suddenly, he had the very urge to spill it all. Tell her everything he felt. Break down and cry until he could not do it anymore. Would he ever be able to pick up the pieces after that though? If he crumbled now, who would help Peter? Who would help their Kingdom?

As much as this guilt weighed on him, he was able to admit, "I do not think I will be able to handle if Peter tells me what the White Witch did to him."

He made sure his voice was quiet. The last person he wanted to know this was Peter himself. Peter needed to think that no matter what, Edmund would be able to handle what Peter was going to tell him. Despite that lie, Edmund was committed to seeing it through.

"You are not giving yourself enough credit," Susan said softly. "You have handled everything thrown at you so far. This will be no different."

"But this time, it was not her hurting me," Edmund answered. "If it was my own torment, that would be one thing. This is the White Witch and Peter. She had days with him. I know what she is like. Peter suffered cruelties when he was with her."

He heard Susan shift around and saw out of the corner of his eye that she had turned to face him, lying on her side.

"Were you scared when you saw her again?" Susan asked gently.

It was one of the most frightening moments of his life again, next to, knowing that she had Peter and had been torturing him relentlessly.

"Terrified," Edmund said.

"I did not even see her again, and I was terribly afraid when I read your message," Susan agreed. "And you were able to battle against her and defeat her."

"It does not matter," Edmund admitted. "I was too late."

"No, you saved him, Edmund. You—"

"You did not see the way he looked at me," Edmund interjected, halting all of her other words. _Like I was one of the monsters who would hurt him more_. Peter had been so afraid. He paused to make sure Peter was still thankfully asleep, before quietly adding, "You did not hear what she said. You did not see him when I found him."

After a pause, Susan said, "No, I do not know what that was like for you." When she took a bit longer than expected to speak again, he looked at her from where he laid. She had a sad expression on her face. "It must have been awful."

"It was," Edmund agreed. Susan laid back down, looking to the sky above. "I cannot stop seeing her," he admitted, "or him."

"Then look at him now," Susan suggested. "I mean, really look at him."

She was evidently waiting for him to do so. He did not want to. He was trying to remain strong. Right? If he studied the way Peter looked, it would just make him sad once more, or worse, angry. But he had no one to be angry at. No one to place blame on. Not in the way he wanted to, not in the way he needed to. The only bearer of blame there was left was himself.

"Come on, Edmund, look at him," She urged him. "See him now."

Reluctantly, he complied. He sat up slightly on his elbows and looked at Peter's sleeping form. He looked calmed, peaceful even. It was not an expression he often wore anymore. But Peter was safe. He was here. He was not still trapped with her.

How was it so much easier to tell Peter this, but not to believe it himself? He could reassure Peter all day that he was safe and no one would hurt him, but for Edmund to believe it was nearly impossible. Edmund was still just so afraid of anything worse happening to Peter. He did not know what to do to cease that fear, but to let it fester.

_Because I saw him when he still was her captive_. He had seen Peter at his worst, presumably. He had seen Peter at his most vulnerable. Every defense of his had been torn down. He had been so afraid there. _Why had I not gotten there in time?_

"See him as he is now," she encouraged. "You see that his bruises have healed and his scars are doing so as well. You see that he is safely sleeping beside you, right?" He nodded once more. "Know that is only because of what you did. He is here at home because you had saved him."

"Susan, it's my fault—" He paused. "It's my fault she got to him."

"Like I said to Peter before, it is only the White Witch's fault why he was hurt like this," Susan said. "You saved him, Edmund. You rescued him from her. When you are feeling guilty and wallowing in regret, know that it is only because of you that Peter is here today."

"You would have saved him if I failed," Edmund reasoned.

"It does not change that you were the one to," Susan said. "He is safe because of you, and everything else does not change that."

"I would have never left him in there," Edmund said.

"He and everyone else here knows that to be true," Susan replied with such conviction. "No one doubts you other than yourself."


	30. Grieving

In spite of the plans for the celebration were for her birthday, Lucy stopped feeling excited about it not long after they decided on having it. Granted, she kept that to herself to not upset her siblings, but it still did not change how she felt. She was trying to remain positive and happy. It was not easy.

After seeing her siblings struggle so terribly, after her own nightmares, it was hard to remain positive. Susan was going to overwork herself to death. She had seized control over everything to try to retain some sense of order. Lucy did not think it actually made Susan feel any better though.

While sleeping outside was better than when Peter was inside, Edmund still needed to wake him from a nightmare. He had pulled away from him, thinking Edmund was trying to grab a hold of him. Peter was evidently frustrated, and it took him a bit longer to calm down once he was re-situated with his surroundings.

Lucy hated seeing him like this. Peter deserved to feel happiness and love all the time. He was one of the sweetest people she knew. All she had wished was for this never to have happened either.

When she talked to Gemora about this, Gemora had advised her that she could not linger on what could have been, only on what had happened. Deep down, she agreed, but it did not mean she was going to like that she could not change how much her siblings were struggling.

Edmund was startled awake most nights. Between waking up to Peter's screams or from his own nightmares, he was hardly sleeping. She caught him whispering in his sleep too. Most of the time, it was for Peter. Sometimes, it was for her or Susan. Once, it was for Aslan.

Lucy had noticed that Peter never talked about Aslan too. Never mentioned him. Even when he was at his worst in front of them, he never even discussed Aslan's absence. Not once.

None of them did either. They had not discussed him at all.

She was concerned why. Why did Peter never talk about the one person as mystical as the White Witch herself? Lucy had questions of her own for Aslan. She knew Aslan always had his own way about things, but she wanted to know why he did not come too. Lucy wanted that answer an awful lot. She wondered if Peter did too.

This is what drove her question to Peter when the two of them lied in the grass just talking about her party and regular occurrences. Their conversation had grown quiet as it did most of the time did with Peter, and she gathered the courage to speak.

"Peter, can I ask you something that might upset you?" He rolled onto his side hesitantly. But he simply nodded. "I have thought a lot about Aslan lately, and I noticed that you do not talk about him at all," Lucy said carefully. "Why is that?"

He seemed guarded when he asked, "What am I supposed to say about him?"

"Well, you have not said anything about his absence." Peter flinched at her words before he took a breath. "I am sorry. I just did not know how you felt about him."

Peter lied back down on the grass, examining the skies above. She mimicked him by lying back on the grass, trying keep the pressure of him as he thought over his answer.

"There are so many parts I have to sort out," Peter admitted. "I have not pinpointed how I feel about him." He took an audibly difficult breath before adding softly, "All I know is that he did not come."

_I wish he had_, Lucy thought to herself. Peter deserves better than this. He should have been saved so much sooner.

"I prayed for him to save you."

And with a terribly sad voice, Peter replied, "So did I."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter forced himself to visit the cemetery that next day. Not that he was feeling all that great, but speaking with Lucy had made him think of Aslan, which led to him to contemplate Aslan's entire absence from his capture and inadvertently made him think of how it all began.

The ambush had started this entire ordeal as terrible as it was. All he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and disappear rather than be here. But he could not change the truth that happened. He needed to face what happened now, whether he wanted to or not.

Ten of his Guard, ten friends he saw every single day had died trying to protect him. If he did not face this now, he was not sure he would be able to ever.

It was quiet on this side of the castle grounds. The only companions to his steps were the delicate paws of Julian and Baye. As they were walking, he could not help but feel awfully cold once more. It had felt so long since he was attacked. Yet, this first ambush had started it all.

He and his guard never stood a chance. There had been so much blood.

"I am sorry I was not here to lay your siblings to rest," Peter said to Julian and Baye as they were nearing the entrance. Qazz and Kel were both there in the forest and died that day. "They protected me until—" he swallowed thickly, unable to finish the sentence. Although, he did not need to; Julian and Baye knew the ending.

"They died serving you and all of Narnia. I do not think there was a death more suited for them," Julian said.

"It still hurts though," Peter admitted softly. "I remember so much of how they died."

"Try not to remember them in their last moments, my King. Remember them for who they were," Baye encouraged, nuzzling the side of Peter's leg with her face gently. "They loved you with all of their hearts."

"I wish I could have said goodbye," Peter admitted, pausing at the gates that led into the cemetery.

"That is what we are here to do today," Julian said delicately.

"You will stay with me?" Peter asked.

"Always," Baye promised.

With that in mind, Peter took his first steps into the cemetery.

It was not difficult to locate the fresh graves. Ten lined the stretch. Frankly, the sight made Peter want to be sick, but that did not change what he had to do. He stopped in the middle of the ten, examining them all sadly. He had known them since before he was crowned High King. He had battled in Beruna with all of them.

_You are going to wish I killed you in Beruna_, the White Witch's voice pierced through his mind like a dagger. He paled, feeling an eerie shake around.

"Majesty?"

He had to physically shake his head to snap himself out of his fear.

"Are you sure we are safe here?"

"Certain,"' Baye replied.

He observed his surroundings. There were other guards nearby; Julian and Baye were both by his side. _I am safe here, she is dead_, Peter told himself.

_Magic like mine is never truly gone_, the Witch's voice on replay.

"She is not here," Julian softly told him. "Your brother has slain her. She will not hurt you again."

_That is what we thought last time_, Peter answered to himself. The words themselves fell short of finding his lips though.

Instead, he tried to focus on why he came here. After taking a few minutes to calm down enough, he returned his attention back to the graves in front of him. Peter knelt before these graves. All he wanted to do was see the graves gone. He just wanted them back. To tell them, thank you. To let them go back to their families and friends.

"I do not think I can do this," Peter admitted, clutching his hands together to try to subside the trembling. Julian and Baye took instinctive steps closer to him.

Before long, tears dripped down Peter's cheeks. He wiped them away hastily, but it did not slow down the next ones that spilled. His heart felt tight, his head light, and all he wanted to do was run away.

_They are only dead because of me_, Peter's realization sent his few tears to a shattering break. He folded his chest near the ground, face nearly touching the grass in front of the graves, his hands clutching his hair.

_I am so sorry. This was not meant to happen. I am so sorry._

Nothing was audible from Peter other than the sounds of his sobs. Julian tried to talk to him, but Peter scarcely heard him. After a good while of Peter crying, Baye placed her paw on Peter's arm. Peter turned to her, heartbroken and distressed.

Baye looked deeply saddened. But after looking at her through his blurry vision, Peter did not think that Baye was upset about her siblings in these moments.

"It is okay," Baye whispered to him. "It's going to be okay."

"It's not okay," Peter's voice broke. "None of this is alright. They shouldn't have—" Peter cried once more, unable to say any of the words.

It was a long while before Peter's rattled breaths were accompanied by the sound of strong hooves hitting the ground.

Peter looked up to see Oreius towering a few feet away. Julian was right by Oreius's side.

"Oh, Peter," Oreius said sadly. Peter looked down in shame.

After some indication from Oreius, Julian and Baye backed away to let Oreius move closer to Peter. As he came to Peter's side, Peter noticed that Oreius was looking at the same graves with a gloomy expression.

"Losing people you care about is never easy," Oreius shared. "Especially when they die under your watch."

Oreius was speaking from experience, Peter knew. He had lost plenty of people of his own well before Peter ever led the army in Beruna. Peter's throat was thick. He only managed to nod in agreement. This was all terrible. The guilt was suffocating.

"Sometimes, it feels too overwhelming," Oreius explained, "as if I can never lead anyone again for fear of feeling this suffocation once more." He barely was able to look at Oreius. Tears flowed down Peter's cheeks, sorrow on his sleeve. "I always try to remember that those we lose died doing their duty, and if I never lead again, then am I honoring their memory by hiding in fear?"

"I don't know how—" Peter admitted. "They shouldn't have died like that."

"You are right." Oreius acceptance caught him off guard. He was not expecting him to agree with him. "There is nothing honorable about what the White Witch's soldiers did," Oreius said with disdain flocking his tone. After taking a brief pause, he asked, "Do you know why we visit graves?" When Peter could not produce an answer, Oreius provided, "It is show our appreciation to the people we have lost." Oreius's voice was gentle but certain.

Peter's face contorted, trying to keep his emotions from overflowing.

"Go to each of them. Tell them thank you for your sacrifice," he paused before looking straight at Peter. "Tell them I am sorry for what the Witch's soldiers did to you, and say goodbye to them."

"I cannot do this," Peter admitted shamefully. His emotions laced his voice. His throat felt tight and unnerved.

"You can," Oreius encouraged. "Just start small. Start with one of them."

"I'll just sob," Peter said dejectedly. "I won't be able to get any of it out."

"This is not something to quickly finish," Oreius replied. "Say what you have to the ten of them, and make your peace."

Peter took a hold of Oreius's hand as he went over to Quazz's grave. Oreius shifted next to him.

And one by one, he said goodbye to those who protected him.


	31. Trapped With Too Much Pain

Chained, beaten, and starved. Edmund could not shake the image of Peter trapped in that cell. He could not erase it. Not for one moment. He could not do it.

The White Witch was lingering over Peter, telling him that Edmund was not real. Telling him that Aslan was not coming. That no one was.

"No, Peter! Don't listen to her!" Edmund pleaded with him. The Witch just smiled, and Peter flinched at her touch.

Edmund could not move. He could not help his brother when she yanked his head back by his hair and held her knife to his throat. Edmund's heart spiked in his nightmare, but it reached an entirely new intensity when Peter screaming his name startled him awake.

Edmund jolted up. It was dark in Peter's room. He had no time to sort out his own nightmares. His entire focus was on locating Peter.

The first thing Edmund noticed was that Peter was not in his bed at all. Rather, he was huddled on the ground by his balcony entrance. It was only the two of them in the room now. Edmund gently took a few steps towards him.

"Pete," he gingerly called.

Peter startled. With quick reflexes, Peter armed himself with a discarded knife on the table near him before turning back to face Edmund, holding the knife out to defend himself.

Edmund put his hands up. Peter's stance faltered for a moment. Tears were threatening to leave his eyes. The knife shook in his hand. Edmund's heart constricted at the sight.

"Please, don't come any closer," Peter begged.

"I won't, Pete. I'll stay right here," Edmund promised. Edmund kept his hands up to demonstrate his lack of malice.

"She kept showing me visions of you," Peter explained with his voice cracking sporadically. His face contorted with his emotions. "It was never real."

"I am real right now," Edmund reassured gently.

"I saw her kill him, Ed." His face scrunched as he shied away. "I saw it, and I couldn't stop her."

"What did you see?"

Peter looked down ashamed. It yanked on Edmund's heart.

"The night he took your place at the Stone Table."

_Aslan_.

The night Aslan had sacrificed himself for Edmund was something Edmund only had nightmares about. Something he had cried for hours about when Susan and Lucy told Peter and him about it. Edmund hated thinking of what Aslan had went through, much less actually see it done. He could not imagine what that was like.

Peter started to cry, protectively holding onto himself with his free arm.

"But Aslan is alive now," Edmund reassured him. Edmund took a few cautious steps towards him. "The Deep Magic undid what she did."

Edmund knelt before Peter, only mere feet away.

"It does not change what he went through that night," Peter replied quickly. "It was horrible."

All Edmund could find himself able to say was, "You should never have been forced to see that."

"The worst visions were of you," Peter confessed.

Peter reached out with the hand that was not holding the knife and cupped Edmund's cheek. Peter's misery was plain on his face. His tears soaked his cheeks.

Without warning, Peter lunged forward, and for a split second, Edmund feared that Peter did not know it was truly him. But while still clutching the knife, Peter wrapped his arms around Edmund, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I'm sorry," Peter cried into his shoulder. "I am so sorry."

Edmund tried to console him, but found himself inadequate. All Peter kept doing was whispering how sorry he was. It was heartbreaking.

"Why are you apologizing?" Edmund asked, failing to keep his voice sounding calm. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I shouldn't have let you go in there," Peter cried, tightening his hold. "I shouldn't have let Mr. Beaver stop me." He quietly added in a shaking voice, "I shouldn't have let her hurt you."

How did Peter always find a way to place blame on himself in situations that were not his responsibility?

"Peter, I need you to listen to me," Edmund said gravely. Edmund pried Peter's desperate grasps off of him, forcing Peter to look at him. "Listen to me now when I say that what the White Witch did to me was not in any way your fault. I chose to go in there. No one made me do it. I did."

Peter shook his head as tears anew poured down his cheeks.

"It shouldn't have happened," Peter cried.

"Neither should what she did to you," Edmund said.

Peter could not say another word before he hugged Edmund once more. This time, his hug was far more desperate and sad than the prior ones.

And Edmund just held him until his cries were spent, for both of them were at a loss for words.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Just when Peter thought he was feeling a bit more like himself for once, his nightmares kept finding a way to yank him back down to his brink. After his sobbing into Edmund's arms about the visions the White Witch showed him, Peter was seriously doubting if he could ever be a King again.

Was every day going to be like this? Were his nightmares ever going to leave him? The problem with these visions was that he could not simply tell himself that they were not real. They were very much a reality. They were Edmund and Aslan's truths. He hated that he knew them. It felt like he violated their privacy. Things that should never have been shared had been used to manipulate Peter. It made his skin crawl.

Edmund and he had not talked since the morning's disaster. Peter was not sure if he could have talked to Edmund any further either. He felt miserable about sobbing into his arms and breaking down again. Peter hated that he was only adding to the burdens that Edmund carried.

Besides, all throughout the day, the thoughts that were gnawing in Peter's mind were twisted images and haunting words the White Witch had told him. He could not shake them. He was not sure what were half-truths and what were actual. All he had was the constant reminders of what the Witch showed and told him. He desperately wanted answers to questions he could not dare to ask.

Lucy had joined him in his secluded escape in the library until she had to attend court with Susan and Edmund. As much as Peter wanted to start participating in his normal duties, today, he was grateful for the break. He had far too much on his mind to sort through.

It was not until a few hours later did Oreius enter the library. He seemed a bit surprised to see him, but spoke nothing of it.

"My King," he bowed. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," Peter replied bitterly. They both knew it was not true. Luckily, Oreius did not press it.

Oreius barely gazed around before asking, "Would you like company, your majesty?"

Instead of answering, Peter said, "Oreius, I am trying to follow your advice, but I believe I am failing at doing so."

"And which piece of advice is this?"

"Not to try to deal with everything all at once," Peter said. He looked around despite knowing that only he and Oreius were in the library. He did not turn to look at Oreius until after he asked, "Could you help me with something?" He quickly added, "If you have the time."

"I have all the time you need, my King."

Peter gave him a small appreciative smile before he spoke again. "I am trying to answer this question, and I have reached a standstill," Peter explained. "Does the past matter?"

"In what regard?"

"It is important to draw guidance from the past but not to dwell on it either," Peter clarified. "But knowing the truth of the past is important too, right?"

"For your own past or someone else's?"

"Should I need to know the details of someone else's past?" Peter asked.

"That is a different question than the first one you had asked," Oreius pointed out. He crossed his arms as he looked at Peter. "Whose past are you concerned about?"

In an almost defeated sigh, Peter answered, "Edmund's."

Oreius just nodded to this as if he understood the inquiry. Peter felt that he needed to explain, if not for Oreius, but also for himself.

"Jadis showed me many things I had no right in seeing. Things I never should have known," Peter explained cautiously. "She told me about her time with Edmund, showed me some of her mistreatment of him."

Peter flinched at the mention of this. He could still remember the sound of the crack of the whip when she brought it down on Edmund.

"She showed me memories of hers, of what she did to him, of her killing Aslan."

"That must have been awful to behold," Oreius said sadly.

Peter just nodded to him, unable to find the words to agree with him.

"She told me things that should not matter now, but they mattered before. Things Edmund had said and done when he was with her, and I have no means of knowing if she was lying. I hope she was," Peter continued when he was able to regain some of his composure. "I mean, do I have the right to open a wound Edmund took years to heal?"

Forsaking titles, Oreius calmly said, "Peter, for once, try not to focus so much on others, and ask yourself this: do you need these answers?"

"I think I do," Peter admitted.

"Then, you should ask King Edmund about this."

"It shouldn't matter. These memories—these moments should not matter now. He isn't even the same person anymore."

"If you need to know, if you have questions, you can ask him. You both have gone through terrible things, but if this will help you in any way, you must speak with him."

"What if it doesn't help and only makes it worse for both of us?" Peter countered.

"That will just have to be a risk you are willing to take for the answers you need."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Edmund!" Lucy's voice shook him out of his thoughts. Her face was bright and smiling. It faltered when she saw his face. It was late in the afternoon when he was walking to his history lesson, and Lucy had caught up with him. He had been trapped in replaying the memories of this morning that he had scarcely seen her. "What's wrong?"

After a moment's debate, he caved and told her, "It's just Peter." He hoped that would be explanation enough. It was not. Her arched eyebrow and her look of encouragement showed him that she wanted more than that. "When he woke up this morning, he was a mess. The White Witch, she had showed him memories of hers." With a sigh, he added, "Memories of what she did to me."

"That sounds terrible," Lucy started, but Edmund interjected.

"And he kept apologizing to me as if it was his fault," Edmund explained.

"That is Peter for you," Lucy said with a gentle smile. "Tries to take the weight of the world."

"I was hoping he was getting better," Edmund admitted frustratingly.

"He is talking to you about what he is going through. That has to mean something," Lucy encouraged.

"It does not feel like it is. He just kept crying, Lu."

"You are helping," Lucy said. "We all are. He is trying to figure out how he feels about what he experienced too. Just be there for him. It will be enough."

And while Edmund did not know it yet, he would have to see if Lucy's words rung true, for Peter and Edmund's relationship was put to the test that very night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The next chapters are going to be up today! Thank you for reading it and for the support!**
> 
> **The next time I post will mostly likely be the last for this story. About more four more chapters to go (after the four I post today!)**
> 
> **Thank you for all the continued support!**


	32. Revealing Scars

It was a few hours after dark when Peter had pulled Edmund aside asking to talk to him. Edmund swallowed his own discomfort and fear to follow Peter up to his room. As soon as they entered the room, Edmund noticed how fidgety Peter was. He did not stop moving, even as Edmund sat down in one of the chairs. It did not seem to matter. Peter was on edge.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Edmund asked after a few minutes of unbearable silence.

Peter stopped moving before he turned to face Edmund, explaining, "I am not sure how to start."

"Do the best you can," Edmund encouraged softly. He was curious and concerned by what was bothering Peter like this. All he hoped for was that it was something he could help with.

With a burst of energy, Peter hastily came over to the seat relatively across from Edmund. Peter clasped his hands together and stared at his hands. His leg tapped on the ground nervously.

"Pete, it's okay. You can just say—" Edmund started.

Peter interjected, looking ashamed only after he finished when he said, "I need to ask you about the time you spent with the White Witch."

A chill touched Edmund's skin immediately. It almost felt like a lump had formed in Edmund's throat as he tried to swallow down his discomfort. He was afraid of what Peter wanted to ask him. It was a part of his life he wished he did not have to remember. It was a part of him in a way that nothing ever should have been.

But Peter knew the kind of wound this was. How painful it was for Edmund. Edmund frowned at the thought until he realized that if Peter was asking him about his experience, it just showed how much Peter truly needed to know the answers.

In any other circumstance, Edmund knew Peter would have avoided asking something that would make him or Peter himself uncomfortable. This was not that. More than even Edmund's feelings, Peter needed to know. This realization made Edmund say, "Ask me anything you need to know."

Peter's discomfort shifted to surprise. Perhaps, he expected a harsh reaction. Edmund tried not to speculate too far in the future of what Peter was going to ask him. He knew it would only make him anxious. Peter just nodded in response, as he seemed to gather his thoughts. The longer he was taking, the more Edmund wanted to retract his offer. It was not that he did not wish to tell Peter anything he wanted to know. It was more that Edmund did not want to talk about it at all. Not with anyone.

When he was ready, Peter said, "You know that the White Witch had showed me visions of some of your experiences with her." He hesitated before continuing, "She also told me of what happened and some of what you had said."

Edmund was very afraid of what she could have told Peter. It was not a time he wanted to remember nor did he like the idea that she told him anything. Edmund was already shaking. He did his best not to let it be too noticeable.

_What if there was something I had missed the first time I told them? What if Peter thinks I am an awful person again? _He was at a loss for words at how to respond to those thoughts or Peter.

Luckily for Edmund, Peter supplied the next words when he said, "I hate this." He unclasped his hands, running his hand through his hair. He looked Edmund in the eyes when he pleaded, "Please, do not think I am questioning you now. I trust you entirely, Ed."

There was always an insecurity around Edmund's heart whenever there was a moment of doubt from his siblings or his subjects towards him. Every mishap, every mistake felt significantly worse because of his past mistakes.

Most of the time, he could fight away the intrusive thoughts and tell himself that his siblings did, in fact, trust him. Nevertheless, those thoughts were always there for him. He feared he would always fear that his siblings would have a doubt with him. That they could never fully trust him.

Despite this, Edmund did his best to believe Peter's sincerity when he spoke and said in a quiet voice, "I know that, Pete."

Peter gave him a sad smile before nodding, giving a small explanation, "I am just trying to understand."

He paused before he looked back at his hands. He was so nervous. Edmund hated that he was associated with this fidgety anxiety that Peter was experiencing.

"The White Witch," Peter closed his eyes, paused, before resuming once more, "She told me about the first time the two of you met." Edmund just nodded. He remembered the day as if it was yesterday. It was one of his worst moments. It was something he would never forget. Peter took an audible breath before saying, "She said—"

His face scrunched with effort. Edmund leaned forward, taking hold over Peter's hand.

"I shouldn't even be bothering you with this right now," he guiltily said. "None of this even matters now." He shot to his feet, pulling his hand away. "I am sorry."

"Pete, slow down," Edmund rising next to him. "Ask me what you need to ask. You will not hurt my feelings."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. It was going to hurt Edmund a lot. It was unavoidable. But Peter clearly needed to talk about this. Any hurt feelings are worth it then, Edmund reasoned.

"Just sit and we can talk about it," Edmund said. His voice surprisingly steady to his own ears. Peter complied silently. He slowly returned to his seat, closing his eyes. He looked like he was trying to steel himself. "Take your time," Edmund encouraged the best he could. Peter opened his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Are you sure?" Peter asked. All Edmund could do was nod. Peter picked up where he had left off in his story, "She said that when she first met you, she offered you the chance to be Prince."

_I have no children of my own, and you are just the kind of boy I could see one day being Prince of Narnia_, her words still crisp against his ears. He had been such a fool when he met her. Despite being a child, he should have known better. He should have.

Peter swallowed hard before continuing, "She—also—said that—" he paused. "—You had asked if I would be King with you."

Edmund remembered all too well his conversation with her, and he hated that he knew her words like this. He hated that Peter had to hear them from her and now those words were repeated back to Edmund now.

Peter's face contorted with a rush of emotions as he finally reached the part that he needed to ask, "She had said that you had rather I was a servant to you than for us to be Kings together." He took a moment before asking, "Was that true?"

"It is," Edmund answered with a shame that he would never live down.

Based on Peter's face, it looked like his heart broke in that moment. The worst part was that it was the truth. Edmund felt the heat reach his face. He felt tightness claw at his chest. He had been so terrible in the past.

But Peter's inquiry took a sharp turn next.

"Is it still true?" Peter's small voice asked.

Edmund could easily place the duality of his emotions: surprise and appalled. He was utterly speechless at Peter's question. It hurt his soul more than anything else did for Peter to ask it.

How could Peter possibly think that Edmund would not want to be a King with him or that Edmund would want him to be his servant?

Peter barely managed to get the next words out with his emotions trying to burst through his protective barriers: "Because I don't have to be King." He blinked tears out of his eyes. "If you don't want that, I don't have to be. I just want us to be brothers."

_Oh, Peter._

It did not stop there.

"And I just want you to be happy, so if you need me not to be beside you, I will step down. I know I am not like I was before—"

"Pete, wait," Edmund knelt in front of him, taking a hold of Peter's hands, trying to steady Peter from his fidgety expressions and terrible spiral. "Please, just slow down."

Tears trickled down Peter's eyes as he looked absolutely devastated. He did not say another word. Edmund took a deep breath. He needed to fix this. His brain worked quickly to supply an answer. Anything to convince Peter about how wrong he was.

"As awful as it was, the White Witch was right about the first conversation I ever had with her." His own shame forced him to explain, "I was a selfish child. I was, Pete. You can look at me like that all you want, but I was. And I was a fool. I thought she would just humiliate the three of you the way I felt like I was humiliated. I did not know what I was agreeing to nor did I not know what it was like to be King beside you when I said those words."

Peter looked down, as he battled his emotions. Edmund felt his own tears banging against his eyes, demanding to be released.

"Peter," Edmund made sure Peter was looking at him before continuing. "Being a King with you has been the greatest honor I could ever have, and I mean that with everything I have. I would love nothing more than to continue to serve you as my High King until the end of my days."

Peter gasped and shook his head. His terrible grief was winning.

"I do not deserve you to say that."

"Of course, you do," Edmund disagreed. "I mean them, Pete. I was wrong as a child. I would never trade being a King with you over anything." Peter shook his head desperately. "Why don't you believe me?"

In two ways, it had been the wrong and the right question to ask. Peter's emotions overwhelmed, and he held onto Edmund's hands tightly. He took some trying breaths to steady himself. Edmund was scared to see Peter reacting like this.

In a terrified voice, Edmund asked again, "Why don't you believe me?" His voice trembled freely.

Clearly, there was a reason for this. A definite reason why Peter refused to believe him. It had been clear that Peter did not view himself the same since his capture, and this only further cemented that to Edmund. But there was something more to this, Edmund could tell. Something he did not know about. As Peter's emotions evened out, he was taking shaky breaths. He was trembling; Edmund could feel it through his hands.

"I'll show you," Peter's voice was defeated and raw.

He released Edmund's hands. He wiped his tears from his cheeks. He took a calming breath before he looked back at Edmund. His face scrunched in effort, but his fingers went to the hem of his shirt. He turned around, having his back face Edmund.

In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt off his back. What was revealed was a littering of scars that were too deep or too old to heal from the cordial. Some looked like flesh wounds. Others, however, were deep and twisted. His back was severely scarred. Some of the scars resembled Edmund's own scars on his back, others were far worse to behold. It was terrible to look at. It was etched in a way that it never should have been.

All this image did was make Edmund want to cry. How much did Peter suffer by her hands? Based on the scars he held, he had been tortured severely. Based on the scars he had, Peter had been torn apart.

While scars like these defamed his body, Edmund feared they were not the reason Peter feared his own worthiness. It was not until he turned around did Edmund understand the truth.

The tears that had been pressing against his eyes released the moment Edmund had processed the scar on Peter's right collarbone. _JADIS_. The letters looked like they had been carved into his skin.

_They were_, Edmund realized.

At first, Edmund did not think he could bear the sight of looking at the scars and marks that were reminders of the horrific treatment that Peter endured. They were just the epitome of Peter's suffering.

What boiled Edmund's skin was that Peter looked ashamed as he silently cried. Peter was examining his body too. There was no love there. There was no sympathy for what he went through. Peter avoided looking at Edmund at all cost. He was just staring down at his chest.

_He might think he deserved this_, Edmund thought to himself.

Edmund wanted to think that he could not believe that the White Witch could do such a thing, but he was actually not very surprised that she would. What he hated was that she did it to Peter. She had carved into his skin. She had hurt him so severely that Peter did not believe he was worthy of even being a King anymore. Edmund's heart twisted and surely felt like it was going to come out of his chest.

So many things finally made sense in these moments for Edmund. The reason that Peter thought that he was not worthy of being a King, where some of his shame came from. Peter had a constant reminder of what he was to her. She had branded him. He would have the scar for all of his days.

Edmund knew he needed to say something. Peter was crying, probably tearing himself apart even further. He needed to do something to make Peter understand that these carved letters did not make him any less of a King. That what she did to him did not ruin him. He was not tainted. He was not damaged as he said he was.

"Pete," Edmund started.

"Don't say it," Peter pleaded. "Don't say it is okay because it is not. I know it is not."

It was not. What the White Witch did to him was not okay at all. It was sickening.

"I am so sorry she did this to you," Edmund said. Peter did not respond. Just more tears came. Edmund took a few steps forward, clearing the distance between them. He reached out his hand; Peter flinched when Edmund's fingers were near the carved letters. "I am not going to hurt you," he promised.

Edmund saw Peter's effort to still himself as Edmund placed his hand over the scar delicately. Peter closed his eyes.

_It's okay, Pete_, he thought to himself. _Now, how should I articulate this?_

"You had told me when you first saw the scars on my back that I was not those scars. That they had no hold over me," Edmund recalled. "Do you remember that?"

"That was different."

"It is not."

"She did not brand you, Edmund," Peter admitted harshly.

"No," Edmund said. "I understand now that although others might try to say that what we went through was similar, you and I both know that is not close to the truth."

"Do not diminish what you went through," Peter said quietly.

"I am not," Edmund said. "These scars tell a different story than mine. But that is all they are. Awful memories." He removed his hand from Peter's scar and cupped his cheek. Peter leaned into his touch. "You are not these scars anymore than I am mine."

"Her name is on me," he weakly protested.

"They do not change who you are," Edmund reassured. "A kind person, a good brother, and a great King." He paused before adding, "Magnificent."

At the last word Edmund spoke, Peter cracked. He choked on his reply before grabbing a hold of Edmund. In a quiet voice, he finally admitted after a while, "I don't feel like any of those things anymore."

"You are still all of them, Pete," Edmund said. "She could never change that."

He gripped Edmund tightly. His face leaned against Edmund's shoulder.

"I told her she would not divide us," Peter whispered into him.

"Never," Edmund promised.

And the two cried with each other's company until the two could cry no more and the weights they carried were a bit lighter.


	33. The Truth Laid Bare

The truth was laid bare. The evidence of what happened was shown, and Peter was not sure how he felt about it. Edmund had made him feel better. Edmund assured him that he was not these scars. He was not what the White Witch did to him.

However, now, Peter felt a great deal of dispute over where to go from here. He was scared about how Edmund would even look at him now. Would he too look in disgust as Peter had?

_Edmund is not like that_, Peter told himself. His intrusive thoughts were vicious when left unchecked. He did his best to ignore them and talk them down. Edmund had only showed him love and compassion. That was never going to change.

Now that he had showed Edmund, he hoped that he had gotten over his biggest hurdle. Now, someone knew the damage done to him, maybe he could go further. Maybe, he did not have to hide the truth at all.

_Was that even fair to do to his siblings?_ His mind shot out. They had been struggling so much as it was. Did he need to add to their burden by knowing the extension of what happened?

_I need to tell it_, Peter realized. He did not think he could talk about everything. That was too overwhelming. But he needed to talk about what happened to him. He did, and the more time that passed, the more certain he became of it.

The truth was all he had left. It was something that only he had, and he feared what would happen if he kept it to himself.

It was only a couple of hours after this decision that Peter met with his siblings for a late lunch and brought up the topic.

"Would it be alright with you three if I told you of what happened to me?" Peter asked cautiously. The question caught his sisters off guard. Edmund looked unfazed by it. "I need to talk about it, I think, and I don't want to keep these memories as secrets anymore."

Susan looked sad at first. Lucy held an unreadable expression.

Susan spoke first, saying, "If you think it will help you, then certainly." She looked to Edmund and Lucy, before adding, "At least for me."

Lucy looked at Peter before admitting, "I am a bit afraid to know the truth. But fear has never stopped me before, and it won't stop me now. I am ready to hear the truth of any part you want to share."

Peter shot a glance at Edmund who just nodded in acceptance.

"You are sure?" Peter asked again.

"Yes, Pete, we are," Edmund answered for the three of them. His sisters both nodded in encouragement.

"Could I tell you now?" Peter asked. They agreed.

Peter let out the breath he had been holding. He called for Ari, asking her to fetch Oreius for him. He ought to hear this too. Peter thought having Oreius there would make it easier. He hoped he was right. As Oreius came a few minutes later, Peter looked away. Maybe, he was rushing things. He had only showed Edmund his scars the night before. Maybe, it was too soon.

_If you do not tell them now, you might never_, Peter thought to himself. After Susan explained Peter's intentions, Oreius adjusted his position and folded his arms, readying himself.

When Peter reached the courage to speak again, he admitted, "I do not know what to say. I just know I have to talk about it."

"Try to start from the beginning?" Lucy suggested kindly.

_The beginning. Right._ Peter tried to calm his swirling thoughts. _Where was the exact beginning?_

"You were heading to check out the reports of attacks on our people near the Beavers' dam," Susan supplied when he did not speak for a short while.

"Right," Peter answered. "We were ambushed, and—and—they killed everyone. Everyone who was there to protect me, they died trying." He paused briefly. _Maybe, this was a horrible idea._ But he swallowed his fears and continuing speaking, "Her soldiers brought me to the castle. And she was there."

He glanced at Edmund before saying, "She was in this ice wall." He closed his eyes. He still remembered it. He could visualize the way her body was a part of the ice. He remembered the fear he felt when he first saw her again. The disbelief.

"Her soldiers, they did some sort of spell," Peter explained the best he could. With a shuddering breath, he finally said, "They used my blood to bring her back to life."

Peter did not open his eyes at all. He could not look at them. He was used to bring her back too. On top of everything else. He hated that it was his blood that was used. It had only made everything much worse.

That was when he felt a gentle hand touch his arm. He slowly opened his eyes to see Susan's hand on his.

"Do not be afraid," She said softly. "Nothing you tell us of what you experienced will change how much we love you. Nothing." She smiled sadly at him. "She is to blame for her actions, even coming back to life. It is not your burden to bear."

Peter squeezed Susan's hand, nodding in small acceptance. He kept his hold on her hand, and Edmund had come over and held his other hand as he continued his story.

And continue is what he did. He told them of what she and her followers had done to him the best he could. Shared the awful visions she showed him. Nothing explicit, he did not need to. Their faces showed him how horrified they were just recounting what happened; they did not need details.

He told them of his attempts to escape. He actually had to skip over the punishments for his escapes when he first told them. He could not bear to remember them.

However, eventually he told them about Edmund's rescue. After that, he was hit with the urge to share his scars, to not keep that as a secret either.

"There is something else," Peter said after he shared most of his story. Edmund eyed him knowingly. Susan just wiped the tears from her face before nodding. Lucy looked nervous. Oreius looked awfully sad.

With an encouraging nod from Edmund, Peter forced himself to. He told them first. Unlike for Edmund, he gave them the warning. They already knew what to expect when he took off his shirt and display his scarred body.

He did not think it made it any better.

Instead, Lucy went up to him and hugged him, scarred and all. There were tears spilled from both he and Lucy. He noticed over Lucy's head that Susan had moved closer to him. Her steady hand kept him from toppling over. Oreius's expression was only of terrible sadness. One Peter never thought he would wear, especially not when looking at him.

When Lucy released him, Susan touched his face, whispering, "I am sorry, Peter." She hugged him following this. She held him tightly and warmly, as if she was trying to send all of the love she had into her hug. He felt the love she was amplifying, the love she held for him.

Following Susan breaking apart from him, Oreius went over to him. He crouched down to a lower level before cupping Peter's face within his two hands. Peter saw that sorrow was still there on his face, but so was the love that Oreius had for him as well.

With a gentleness that Peter had rarely seen from Oreius, he bent down and placed a kind kiss on Peter's forehead. It demonstrated the love that Oreius held for Peter, and that the love they shared did not change because of how damaged Peter was. Slowly, Oreius released Peter's face. Peter barely let him return to his normal position before he hugged Oreius.

It was not long until his siblings squeezed in, and the five of them hugged each other.

Peter was not sure how well he could manage in the future, but in those moments, he felt loved and accepted even with the truth laid bare. The truth of what happened was no longer hidden away.

The relief that swelled around Peter was overwhelming. No longer did he have this weight surrounding him about what he experienced. It was no longer just his to carry alone. Others knew about it too. Now, it was no longer a guilt he could not escape from.


	34. Healing

The following day, Peter had decided he wanted to act like a King again. Take on the role he had not participated in by going with Susan to end a dispute between Sir Felix's Kit and a family of fauns. The distance was not far, and it actually felt good to leave the castle, even if it was only for an hour or so.

Peter was immensely nervous, and Susan noticed immediately. As they were heading to Sir Felix's home, Peter called for them to halt. He walked away from the group for a moment, needing a brief pause.

"We have done this before," Susan encouraged while she came over to him. "You will be fine."

"It feels different this time," Peter admitted. "What if this is too soon?"

"You told me today that you wanted to take some of your prior duties again, and this is your first step to doing so," Susan said. "If you are uncertain, we can turn back. But you want to help. It is why you asked me in the first place."

She had a point he could not disagree with. He had been the one to approach her about going with her. He wanted to act like a King again, but doing so felt easier spoken than with action.

She took his hand, saying, "It is your decision."

He released a sigh before answering gently, "Let's go to Sir Felix."

After another five minutes of walking, they had reached Sir Felix's property. His wife, a red fox, was Lady Cala and their young kit, Lun was with them. The fauns were Eddard and Pers with their children, Rose and Ty.

As soon as Sir Felix saw them rounding the bend, he bowed gracefully, greeting, "King Peter, Queen Susan, thank you for coming here on such a notice." Lady Cala, Lun, and the fauns all bowed following Sir Felix.

"Thank you, cousins," Susan addressed. "How may we assist you?"

The small dispute came from their children playing, and they had knocked over a misplaced boulder from the bridge repair that destroyed part of Sir Felix's home. The dispute was who should help with the repairs. Eddard and Pers claimed that it should be entirely Sir Felix and Lady Cala's responsibility because it was their property. Sir Felix and Lady Cala thought that the fauns should contribute towards the repairs because it was their children playing with their son.

"If you could pardon us for one moment, we will decide the best course of action," Susan requested as Peter and she went off to the side to discuss. "What are your thoughts?"

"That boulder's placement was an oversight on our part, we should help with some of the repairs," Peter suggested. "We could split the cost three ways?"

"I like that idea," Susan agreed. "We could also send some help with repairing the home, but I do think that both families should help."

After convening, the two of them shared the decision with the fauns and the foxes. While the fauns were not completely happy with the verdict, they accepted it and thanked Susan and him for their time. Once the fauns departed, Sir Felix went over to Peter and Susan, saying, "Thank you for assisting, my King and my Queen." With a smile, he added, "King Peter, seeing you healthy and safe is a bright sight for these fox eyes."

"Thank you, Sir Felix," Peter said as steadily as he could. A smile found its way to Peter's face at Sir Felix's words.

As Susan and Peter were walking back to the Cair, Susan said, "I knew you could it."

"That was much easier than I thought," Peter admitted.

"You did wonderfully," Susan told him. "Oh, and Peter, I have an idea for later, if you are feeling up to it."

"I am almost scared to ask," Peter teased.

"It is nothing bad," she promised. "Could we practice dancing? I want to have a lesson before Lucy's celebration." He laughed lightly, putting his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

"Anything you want, Susan."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

After Susan's dancing the day prior and even Peter's first attempt at taking on the duty of being a King once more, Peter felt tremendously better. He had even spent some of the evening with Mr. Tumnus in attempts to work on a gift for Lucy.

There was this weight that was gone from his shoulders. One that did not hunker down on him like the gravity from the sky.

Even though he still woke up terrified this morning, he was able to shake it off sooner than previously. He was feeling so well that he asked Lucy to go on a walk with him to give her his gift for her birthday. It was only the day before her party, and he thought it would be a great time to do so. Besides, he secretly hoped she would like it enough to wear to the party itself. But he kept that to himself.

The two of them were taking a nice stroll through the small clearing outside the castle, and Lucy was telling him about her plans for opening the beach of the Eastern Sea during the afternoons in the summer for their people.

"Then our people and we can all enjoy the warm weather by the beach together," Lucy concluded.

"That is a great idea," Peter agreed. It would be good for their people as well as for them. Any interaction with their people was one they loved, and their people certainly would love the chance enjoy the summer with them too. After a short while, Peter said, "Lu, I actually have something for you."

"Oh, you did not have to get me anything," She quickly said.

"I wanted to," Peter said as he opened his satchel. "It is not something as nice as I would have wanted to get for you." He grabbed a hold of the flower crown in his satchel and presented it to her.

"Peter," She beamed. Multiple colored roses, daisies, and sunflowers made the crown a rainbow of color. "It is beautiful. Those are my favorites." Her smile was bright and warm. "Did you make this yourself?"

"I did," Peter chuckled. "Mr. Tumnus helped me with the stitching." He quietly added, "I wish I could have gotten you something more."

"This is perfect, Peter," She said rather convincingly. "Thank you." She turned around, asking, "Will you place it on my head for me?"

"You really do not have to wear it," Peter started.

She snapped around, insisting, "I love it, Peter. I want to wear it all around."

With a smile, Peter conceded, "Very well." Gently, he placed the flower crown on her head, making sure it was positioned correctly. Lucy's face lit up as she hugged Peter.

"Thank you, Peter," She whispered to him. "Having you here for my birthday was the best gift to have. This is just extra." He held her tightly, softly telling her that he loved her. She told him the same.

They continued on their stroll. Lucy excitedly showed every bird or small creature they passed her crown. It kept the smile on Peter's face cemented.

Peter felt content and eased. He felt calmer than he had in a long time.

Only once they were at the end of the clearing in the forest did Peter hear the footsteps behind them. Peter paused, and Lucy had asked, "What is it, Peter?"

The velvet steps stopped behind them, and Peter did not even need to look behind him to confirm before answering, "Aslan."


	35. Aslan

Lucy's excitement and joy only confirmed Peter's presumption when she yelled, "Aslan!" She ran to him; Peter just quietly turned around.

As clear as the day around them, Aslan stood there. Golden and gentle. Powerful and delicate. It seemed like the day around them had all but drawn to him.

And Peter felt none of it.

Not the warmth of the day, not even the comfort of being near Aslan. It was the first time he had ever experienced feeling empty near him. Peter held his arms across his chest, protectively. Aslan had always provided a comfort when no one else could, yet Peter worried his discomfort was just another part of why he was permanently damaged.

"Peter," Aslan called to him, his voice calm and light. Lucy had broken apart from hugging Aslan, and she too was looking at Peter expectantly.

Peter felt like he wanted to run away, but at the same time, his legs felt like jelly. He had never been nervous around Aslan before. Now, all he felt was his anxiety taking a spike.

Aslan took a few gentle steps towards him, and Peter just looked down, unable to keep looking at him. When Aslan was mere feet from him, Peter could not help himself from taking a step back.

"Why do you make yourself small in front of me?" He asked delicately. "You have been and always will be loved by me."

Peter was at a loss for words. He wanted to get sick, cry, run, and hug Aslan all at the same time. Every part of himself was combating with another part of him. He did not know what to do. Luckily, Aslan must have felt this combativeness.

"Peter, I came here as soon as I could," Aslan said softly. When Peter said nothing at this, for he had no means to, Aslan continued, "My child, there is much for us to discuss. How can I help you feel comfortable?"

"May my sisters and brother join us?" Peter asked in the quietest of voices. He was not sure he even got out all the words. But Aslan understood. He always did.

"Certainly, Peter," Aslan answered.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Lucy loved that Aslan was back. His presence made her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. She felt a calm that she did not know she was lacking.

_Everything will be alright now that Aslan is here_, she thought to herself. She felt confident in this the moment she hugged Aslan. But as she noticed Peter's demeanor, she was caught in surprise.

Other than requesting that she, Susan, and Edmund be present, Peter did not even utter a sound to Aslan. They just quietly made their way to the castle. Aslan did not press Peter either. Aslan just kept his warming aura around him. It was comforting for Lucy, despite the anxiety surrounding Peter.

Their guards bowed to the three of them as they made their way up to their private quarters. It was not until they were in the lounge that they sent their pages to retrieve Edmund and Susan. Lucy noticed that Peter sat a good distance away from Aslan. She wondered why. Aslan was a securing joy in Lucy's life, and up until now, she would have thought Peter would have felt the same. Did he not feel the same relief she did at Aslan's arrival?

She did not have long to contemplate her thoughts as her other two siblings had come into the room. Edmund halted by the door as soon as he saw Aslan, whereas, Susan was able to walk into the room. With a quick look back to Edmund, she took his hand and led him further inside. He unsurprisingly sat right next to Peter. Susan hugged Aslan before sitting down on the other side of Peter.

For a short while, there was silence. Aslan just seemed to be patiently waiting. He had the gentlest of expressions on his face, one of love and sympathy. Peter did not even look at him.

"Aslan," Susan was the one to speak. "It is wonderful to see you as always, but I must ask, where have you been?"

"The Witch's magic barred me from returning to this world. I had to remain in one of the other worlds until her magic faded," Aslan explained.

"Just like when she ruled Narnia?" Lucy asked.

"Precisely the same," Aslan answered He looked directly at Peter, saying, "I wanted nothing more than to have come to you."

"Why didn't you?" Edmund asked. There was an edge to Edmund's voice when he spoke again. "Why did you not come roaring in like last time?"

However, Aslan was not the one to answer this. Peter did.

In the saddest voice Lucy had ever heard, Peter answered, "Things don't happen twice."

Finally, Peter looked at Aslan. There were tears brimming in Peter's eyes. A pain she did not know of was placed there. There was such a weight to these words. A weight she did not know the origins to. But Aslan did.

He gently went over to Peter, nuzzling against Peter's face gingerly. Peter wrapped his arms around Aslan. Lucy saw a few tears slip down his face. There was an understanding between them. One unspoken.

"I only wish I could have prevented this."

"Me too," Peter quietly said. The two broke apart, and Aslan licked Peter's face. A small pained smile flicked to his face.

"The White Witch had kept you from entering Narnia and hid Peter from us too?" Susan asked.

"Yes, dear one," Aslan said. None of them missed the way Peter flinched at the words. Aslan went next to him. Peter reached out and touched his mane, his fingers twisting in it. "She was still strong enough, despite only being half-formed." Aslan looked to Edmund as he continued, "That is why you were able to slay her as you did. The dark magic that she used to come back was incomplete. Her time here was only temporary."

"I am confused, Aslan," Lucy admitted aloud. "If she was not strong enough to remain in Narnia, then why did she take Peter—"

"She never had any intention of leaving that castle," Peter quietly realized. "She was never going to try to take Narnia back."

"No, my child, she was not," Aslan said. "By the time she would have realized her temporary status, she already had you in her grasp. She used the rest of her magic to keep you for as long as she did."

Peter seemed terribly startled by this.

"She sought vengeance against him," Susan concluded aloud. Aslan nodded.

"Against all of us," Aslan added.

"She said you knew she would be back," Peter started suddenly.

"I knew there was a means to bring her back, but without her wand, I knew she could never be fully formed. I never suspected they would have brought her back only in a partial capacity."

"Can she come back again?"

"I do not know what the future will hold, Peter. I will secure her wand to prevent such a resurrection though."

Peter seemed somewhat content with that answer. Lucy thought she trusted Aslan to make sure the wand was in a safe enough place. She could not imagine what it would be like to see the White Witch again. Just hearing about it frightened her enough as it was. Even Susan seemed to accept this solution as well.

However, Edmund abruptly got to his feet. All eyes were on him. He silently walked passed them all and left the room without a single word.

"Edmund!" Lucy called after him.

"Give him the time he needs," Aslan said calmly. "He and I will talk later."

Lucy sat back down, looking at Aslan and Peter once more. Peter frowned as he formed his next question.

"You know everything that happened?" Peter asked fragilely.

"Yes," Aslan replied softly.

Peter just nodded before he asked quietly, "Could we go on a walk, Aslan?" Aslan gently agreed. "If you will excuse us," Peter said to Lucy and Susan before he and Aslan left the room.

It was only once Aslan had left the room did Susan quietly say, "I hope Aslan does not make anything worse."

"Aslan could never," Lucy defended.

"I never meant intentionally," Susan replied. "I am merely hoping that his answers help us more than hurt. Because quite frankly, if I were Peter, I do not know how I would react if Aslan did not come save me from all of that."

And Lucy held no answer for her because she too did not know how she would feel either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The final chapters are being posted tonight! Thank you for everyone who has read this story and has continued supporting me! Here are the final chapters of _Breaking Magnificence_.******


	36. The Great Lion's Words

Peter and Aslan were walking down the hallways of the Cair by the Western end when Peter started to speak once more. He had been nervous to. He had not given too much thought of what he was say to Aslan when he saw him again, and now that he had, he was more uncertain than before.

"I do not need to tell you any of what happened, correct?" Peter asked cautiously.

"Only if you do not wish to," Aslan offered.

"Did you hear me when I prayed to you?"

"Every time," Aslan admitted sadly. "I was not able to reach you then, but I want to help you now."

"I do not know if you can," Peter answered. "I am—" For the first time since coming back to the Cair did Peter not have an answer for him. It was the first time that he was not devastated anymore. He did not know what he was.

"Unsteady?" Aslan offered. Peter nodded to this.

"I have a question, Aslan," Peter said.

"I will answer all that I can," Aslan replied.

"Was the White Witch lying?" Peter asked. "About any of it?"

"What are you uncertain about?"

Peter took a deep breath before answering, "Your execution. Is that what truly happened?"

"Yes."

Such a weight landed on Peter, it nearly made him breathless. That awful execution, the humiliation, the terror of that night was everlasting. Peter owed Aslan more than he ever thought he did. Aslan had suffered in Edmund's place.

"Why did you not tell me?" Peter asked. "Tell me what you had gone through. I did not know. Not truly."

"Why would I have wanted you to experience more pain? Knowing the truth was terrible enough for you and your siblings. I did not need to hurt you more to know details."

"It should have been me," Peter said. "You should not have gone through that."

"Peter, you were exactly where you needed to be," Aslan reassured. "You led the army to save Narnia. I needed you to lead when no one else could."

"I am not sure you should have placed that much faith in me."

"You have prevailed in every circumstance you have been placed in. My faith in you has never wavered. Only yours waivers now."

Peter stopped walking, looking at Aslan squarely. Aslan slowed to a delicate stop. Peter's heart skipped a beat as he took in Aslan's grand presence. _How could he still have faith in me? _

"I am not the same person I was when you trusted me with Narnia," Peter admitted. "Ten of my best soldiers had died protecting me, Edmund had to face the White Witch again to save me, and my siblings have only suffered since my rescue."

"Peter," Aslan tried to coax him back to calmness. It was too late. His emotions were winning. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He thought he had been managing well before, but now in front of Aslan, those fears and insecurities were only resurfacing.

"And I cannot escape what happened to me, even on the days I feel better. How can I lead all of Narnia if I could not even save myself from her?" When Peter noticed Aslan's face only amplified love and sympathy, Peter could not help, but ask, "How are you looking at me like that still?"

In a gentle voice, Aslan answered him, "The White Witch was cruel to you, far more than she was to most others. You had endured such horrors, and yet, you blame yourself for them. You doubt your ability to lead because of someone who had held Narnia under her tyranny for a hundred years. Why is that, my child?"

"Because she broke me. Shattered me to a million pieces like it was nothing," Peter nearly cried, trying to keep it together, only for his voice to crack. "She branded me. She made me doubt you."

"You will never be broken," Aslan said. "Not to me." Peter released a breath he did not know he had been holding. "You have only proven that choosing you as High King was a wise decision."

"Are you not bothered that I have her name carved into my skin?"

"It does not bother me," Aslan said. "You are still my King, dear one." This time, Peter did not flinch. "I still choose you every time."

"But why?" Peter asked with his emotions thick and terrible. "I do not deserve it."

"There have been a few others who are as worthy of the throne as you are," Aslan told him. "You must believe that I would not have chosen you if you were not ready." When Peter frowned, Aslan continued, "If I were asked to choose a High King from every creature or child of Adam I have ever met, I would still choose you now."

"Even after everything?"

"Yes," Aslan said. "What she did to you did not make you any less worthy. You will see that I am right."

"I hope so," Peter admitted.

After a brief pause, Aslan said, "Peter, I am truly sorry I was not able to save you myself."

"I know." After a brief pause, Peter smiled, "But Edmund was there. He saved me."

"As he will until the end of his days," Aslan reassured.

"As will I. I will always be there to protect him and my sisters too," Peter declared to Aslan, feeling the weight of Aslan's reassurances reaching his very being. "And I will protect Narnia with everything I have too. No one will change that. You have my word."

With a bit of sadness lingering on his tone, Aslan agreed, "I know you will."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edmund needed time alone, time to process this. _Aslan had returned._ Edmund was plopped down in the sand near the beach. The cold breeze of the ocean was reaching his face. It was calming him down. His frustration reached a boiling point he did not know he had carried with him.

All he had known during that conversation was that he had to get away from Aslan. There was such anger in Edmund, and he did not know what to do with it. It was like seeing Aslan tore open the wound that he had just spent the last few weeks since Peter's rescue trying to seal.

Because seeing Aslan and hearing him say that he was not able to save Peter himself just made it all so real for Edmund. Before, he could be angry at the image of Aslan not coming to save his brother. But facing Aslan now, it was being hit with the reality that Aslan knew what was happening to Peter and did not come to save him.

Edmund knew that the correct word was _could not_, but in his anger, it felt like an active choice that Aslan had made against Peter.

He needed to be alone because all he felt like doing was exploding at Aslan. He knew it was not rational and not fair to do to him either. However, logic really did not mean much to him in these moments.

Peter was wrecked from his time with the White Witch. Edmund himself was destroyed at seeing Peter go through this. And seeing the White Witch again and knowing that she had tortured Peter mercilessly was unbearable.

He was still seething about it when Aslan found him a few hours later. Edmund was still lying against the cliff's edge, looking out to the sea. Aslan had gently come to him from his left. Edmund only glanced at him to see that he was alone this time.

When Aslan reached him, Edmund asked, "How is Peter?"

He could barely keep the anger out of his voice. He did not know why he was so angry. Maybe it was because Aslan was someone he could be furious at, whereas, the White Witch was already gone. He had no closure there.

"Peter is resting now," Aslan answered.

It really did not answer Edmund's question, but Edmund did not press him further. At least, if Peter was resting, maybe, that meant that he was not traumatized by Aslan's presence. Edmund leaned back, adjusting himself comfortably. He felt the pressure building from his stomach to his throat.

"May I join you, Edmund?" Aslan asked. All Edmund could do was nod. He feared that if he spoke, he would either scream or cry. He did not know which yet. Aslan lied down next to him. "You are angry with me," he stated.

It was not even a question. Edmund nodded again. He did not think he could explain it even if he wanted to.

"Tell me what bothers you," Aslan said.

Again, Aslan was not asking what was wrong. It was as if he already knew. He was giving Edmund the room to speak it for himself.

"You knew the whole time he was with her and did nothing to save him," Edmund gritted through his teeth. "You knew she was back, and Peter suffered for it." Aslan just tilted his head at him, not speaking. "And I cannot help but be angry at you for not intervening," Edmund admitted. This time, he looked Aslan in the eyes when he said this.

Aslan's expression only spoke of a knowing sadness. Edmund stood up when Aslan did not respond, his anger boiling his skin.

Staring down at the laying Aslan, he nearly spat out, "But 'things don't happen twice,' right? That is something she said to him, isn't it?"

Aslan gave him a gentle nod. Edmund just shook his head, his emotions combating him at every turn. He did not know how to process this now.

In a shaking voice, Edmund asked, "Do you know what she did to him?" When Aslan gave him only heartbreaking eyes, Edmund's emotions cracked when he repeated himself, "Do you know what she did to him?" A sob was caught in his throat as he sharply turned from Aslan. Edmund went to his knees, crying into his hands.

Gently, he heard Aslan get to his feet. Edmund barely heard him move next to him.

"I know every strike she laid on him and every word uttered," Aslan carefully spoke. Edmund felt the sobs erupting from his chest, as he felt Aslan's closeness. He felt the comforting warmth Aslan provided, yet still sadness clung to Edmund, refusing to release him. "All I want is to take that pain from him, from you and your sisters, but even I cannot erase the past."

"He did not deserve it," Edmund cried. "None of it. He was not supposed to know what she was like."

"She should never have been able to hurt him, and if you need to blame someone for this, I will carry that burden for you, just as long as you stop blaming yourself as well."

Edmund raised his head, seeing Aslan sitting in front of him. His face kind and patient. There was such a love from him.

"I do not want to blame you for this," Edmund admitted. "I just—it was unfair that any of this happened to him. All of it, and the aftermath, the nightmares, the fear, he should not have had to deal with her brutality."

"I wish he did not have to either. We cannot change what has happened. All we can ask ourselves is how we will go forward?"

Edmund sat back on his calves, taking in Aslan's warm and calm presence. He tried to regulate his breathing the best he could as he took in Aslan's words. Aslan laid in front of him, his easing nature soothing Edmund's aching heart.

"What does he need to get better?" Edmund asked. "And please, do not tell me to just be there for him. Everyone has said that."

"Peter did not share with me what he might need," Aslan answered. "He did tell me that he had you to protect him, and that he would always protect you, your sisters, and all of Narnia."

"That sounds like an answer Peter would give," Edmund said.

"It was a High King's answer," Aslan agreed. Edmund could not help but agree with him too.

As much as Peter doubted himself, even before, he was always the High King of Narnia, even when he did not know it. He always managed to act like a King, even when everyone else would have fallen apart.

"Are we going to be okay?" Edmund asked nervously. "I mean, are we going to be able to move passed this?"

Aslan let out a gentle chuckle, before he answered, "I fear I share the same answer as your mentors that this experience will remain with you, but if your question is will it stop weighing on you and your siblings, then yes."

Edmund smirked before saying, "You are right. You had the same answer as they did." Aslan smiled at him. "Aslan, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, dear one."

Edmund paused before asking, "If you could have, you would have come to save Peter, right?"

"Yes," Aslan replied softly. "For I love him as much as I love you."

Edmund blushed and then said, "Right." This just made Aslan laugh. His laugh filled Edmund with such a light and hope. It felt like the world's weight was lifted off his shoulders, just for a few moments. "There is something else, Aslan. Peter had made me think of it—when we talked about—my experience with the White Witch," Edmund said. He paused to steady himself before he asked, "Why did you forgive me all those years ago? I was pretty awful, and you did not know me back then."

"I did not need to," Aslan said. "I knew the forgiveness you sought and the kindness you could give others. From one look at you, I knew who you were."

"And who was that?"

"A King."


	37. Time For A Celebration

Aslan's presence was a godsend as well as a distraction. Susan loved being near him, believe her, she did. But she also understood that despite his presence, there was still work to be done. As she were conducting the last of the preparations for Lucy's party that night, Aslan came to her. This time, he asked to speak with her.

Susan noticed how much calmer Peter was since his private talk with Aslan. Even Edmund was at ease too. She hoped it helped them both. So, when Aslan looked to speak with her as well, she was a bit concerned.

Her siblings were the ones who were suffering terribly. What could he have to say to her?

The two of them were taking a stroll through the garden. Aslan's presence reflected calmness, an easiness that she had missed. Normally, Peter had amplified this kind of aura. Understandably, he was not giving off that aura much anymore.

"Are you staying for Lucy's party?" Susan asked Aslan with a smile.

"I will if you wish for me to."

"I do," Susan answered. As they walked further, Susan had an uncertainty lingering around her. She asked, "Aslan, what did you say to my brothers? I can tell they are both feeling better for it."

"The truth," Aslan replied. "Sometimes, hearing the truth from someone else makes the person see themselves for who they really are."

"What truth did you want to tell me?" Susan asked.

"What did you want to know?"

"If we had known sooner that Peter was taken, would we have been able to save him from such pain?" Susan asked uncertainly. She was not sure if Aslan had that answer, but she wanted to know if she had acted quicker, could she have saved her brother from such a terrible pain.

"We can never know what would have happened."

"That is not the answer I wanted," she admitted.

"I could tell you possibilities, but nothing is guaranteed."

"You are right," Susan agreed sadly. "I just do not wish for anything like this to ever happen again."

"You have all but vanquished those who supported the White Witch," Aslan replied.

"I know, but I want to make sure that no place in Narnia could be used to hurt anyone like it has my brother."

"Tell me your idea, my child, and I shall make it so."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Saying that Lucy was excited the night of her party was an understatement. Now, that Aslan was among them and her siblings were all in brighter moods, she felt that she could be happy and cheerful. They were smiling and laughing more. It was the best she had felt in the longest of times.

She had made sure she was wearing the floral crown that Peter had made her. She had truly loved it and wanted everyone to see. She had known how difficult it must have been for him to make it, especially with his shaking hands.

The party had started as any typical party they had did. Susan had truly done a wonderful job in planning the vast majority of the party. Decorations were everywhere. Their people filed into the courtyard and the ballroom. Her siblings, her, and Aslan were introduced, and Lucy noticed that when Peter's name was called, their people cheered a bit more for him. He looked appreciatively at them.

She took an excited breath as Aslan approached their side. A great smile was found on her face.

Peter was the one to step forward, saying to their people, "My friends and cousins, we have gathered here in celebration of Queen Lucy's thirteenth birthday. This will be a night of cheers and merry time. Now, allow us to commence this with the first dance."

To this, he reached out his hand to Lucy, which she happily took. He led her to the dance floor, and the two of them started the Narnian Waltz. Not long after did Edmund and Susan join. Then more and more of their people did until most of their people were dancing together.

Peter had a bright smile on his face as they finished the dance. Lucy hugged him at the end of the song. Once she broke apart, she got on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Peter," she said.

"I love you, Lu."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Later in the night, when the party had died down, Susan and Lucy were eating desserts as their brothers socialized with their people. Her brothers remained a pair, traveling to each group of their guests together.

"Thank you for this party, Susan," Lucy said to her as they both watched Peter and Edmund laughing with Sir Felix.

"We needed it," Susan replied before she smiled, hugging Lucy from the side. "Besides, you deserved to have a grand birthday."

"You are too sweet," Lucy said, returning the hug.

"I try," Susan laughed as they broke apart.

She locked eyes with Edmund and gave him a knowing nod. Edmund left Peter's side and scurried out of sight.

"What was that about?"

"There is one last surprise we have for you, Lu," Susan told her.

"This has already been well enough," Lucy started.

"Come on, just wait until you see it," Susan said excitedly. She grabbed a hold of Lucy's hand, dragging her over to Peter. Susan released Lucy's hand once she was beside Peter and left to presumably go where Edmund had.

"Where did Edmund go? He just left and now Susan—" Peter began.

"A surprise," Lucy answered with a smile.

"Oh, that surprise," Peter realized, a grin reaching his lips.

"You know what it is? Tell me," Lucy insisted.

"That would ruin the fun," Aslan's voice came from next to her. Oreius and he went to Peter's side. Peter placed his hand on Aslan's mane. Mr. Tumnus came over to her, giving her a gentle hug.

Lucy did not have to wait long to find out, for Edmund and Susan soon revealed themselves, calling for the attention of their people.

Susan called for their people's attention: "My friends and cousins, we have one last surprise for the birthday celebration. If you will direct your attention to the Western bank, the final surprise will commence."

Susan and Edmund shared a laugh, as they both returned to Lucy's side.

Almost as soon as they did, a large whistle sounded off and a bright red beam shot into the sky. Once it reached above the trees, the red beam erupted in a sparkle of color. Then the next one went off, this time it was green. Then it was pink. And blue.

_Fireworks_, she thought to herself with a smile. She was pleasantly pleased with this surprise.

"They are beautiful," Peter quietly said next to her.

The seven of them stood there, loving not only the fireworks themselves, but also the clear enjoyment from their people as they cheered and gawked at the display.

A smile was on all of their faces. It was such a pleasant end to her party. It truly was.

And she would rather no one else to be there by her side.


	38. The End of The Journey

The day after Lucy's party, Peter slept through most of the morning. When he went down to their quarters, he found Aslan waiting for him. He knew that expression. Aslan was leaving. With a smile, Peter went over to him.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Peter asked.

"I must," Aslan replied gently. "I will be back to see you soon, my child." Aslan nuzzled his face against Peter's. Peter smiled brighter. "There is one last thing I will do in Narnia before I leave. You may accompany me if you wish."

The delicacy in Aslan's voice made Peter a bit uneasy. Peter asked, "What is it that you must do?"

"I will be destroying the White Witch's castle."

Aslan's declaration hit him like a ton of bricks. That would mean going back to the place where it all started, even if it was only from the outside. But he wanted nothing more than to see that placed destroyed.

"You can do that?" Peter asked. Then he realized how silly the question was. Of course, Aslan could destroy a castle.

Aslan nodded all the same.

"I think I would like to come with you," Peter said. "I need to see this place destroyed myself."

"I understand. You may bring whomever you wish with you."

"What made you decide to destroy it?"

"This was Susan's wish," Aslan answered. "And I could not disagree with her. Too long that castle has stood as a monument to a monster."

Peter could only nod in agreement.

"I will leave when you are ready, Peter," Aslan answered. "Take the time you need."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter had chosen every person who could make him feel comfortable to accompany him. It felt so strange being back on the path he had taken all that time ago.

This time, his brother and sisters were right beside him. This time, Oreius was walking steadily behind them. This time, Aslan was leading them. He could only feel the safety and warmth of his family being around him. They had also taken plenty of guards with them. His anxiety would never have allowed him not to take that kind of precaution.

They travelled for about two days, stopping when they needed to. Peter thought that he would be much more anxious the entire trip, but he only felt true discomfort when they arrived at the White Witch's castle.

Edmund was right beside him as the castle came into view. Edmund froze. Peter kept walking. Peter paused to return to Edmund, putting his arm around his shoulders, leaning in close to his brother's ear.

"We will get through this," Peter reassured, trying to convince them both. Edmund said nothing, but let Peter lead him until they were beside Aslan. Peter's hand gripped the hilt of Rhindon to steel himself. It felt comforting and strange to have his sword on his hip once more.

"Fear not, my Kings, this is over," Aslan reassured.

"I just want to feel that it is," Peter replied thoughtfully.

Before Aslan turned to the castle, he faced Peter and Edmund, breathing on both of them. The warmth and love that filled Peter made him feel light and free, as if the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders. He smiled to Peter with such love. With a brief of a start, Peter felt a tingling sensation by his right collarbone. It was not like when Jadis had healed him. This was gentle and delicate.

It was as if Aslan's presence was surrounding all of Peter, filling him with love and strength. He did not need to look to know that the carved letters were being healed.

"Are you ready?" Aslan asked.

Peter thought of how he had suffered in this castle. How he had been brought to his lowest. How his brother had been hurt in the same castle. So many of their people had been trapped in that castle for the longest of time.

He thought of how he was shown the truest amount of cruelty there. For all of those awful memories and heinous crimes, this place could no longer stand as a shrine for the White Witch's followers to ever cower in again.

Glancing at Edmund, he pulled him closer. Peter was never more certain when he answered, "Yes."

With a mighty roar, the entire castle shook, as did everyone witnessing.

Another roar left Aslan, and the castle shook once more as the top pieces began to chip away until the very top of the castle came crashing down on the lower half. With every passing moment that followed, the castle began to collapse on itself.

The truth was that this place needed to be destroyed, and here it was. Peter felt a renewed relief fill him.

Because it truly felt like it was over.

He could never be taken there again. He never had to go through what he had went through again. His brother was never going to have to experience what he had as a child there either.

Such a freeing liberation surrounded Peter. He was grateful to see the castle destroyed.

Edmund hugged him tighter, and his sisters each hugged him too. Peter wrapped his arms around them as they watched the castle be left to shambles. This was all that remained of the White Witch.

This nightmare was over.

Although, Peter was not naive enough to believe that his nightmares and fears would just dissolve. However, he now forever knew that without that castle, there would be no place that she could slither to anymore.

He was the only testament to remain from what she had done to him. He was the only pillar left, and he was determined to not let her win. She may have broken him there. She hurt him in ways he never should have experienced.

But here he was, here he stood, with his siblings by his side, with the people he loved most right next to him. They held onto him until the last piece of the White Witch's castle was destroyed. Nothing remained there anymore. It was just pieces of what it once was.

All that remained was rubble and dust, and that was all that there was going to be. It was just that. A memory. A horrible nightmare, no doubt. But it could no longer get to him. Just the truth was there for them.

He had survived. It would take time, but he would be the King that his family and all of Narnia believe he could be. The King Aslan still believed he was. He would work to be the High King again. He would be the protector of all who could not defend themselves.

Because the White Witch did not destroy him, she did not crush him beyond repair. He clawed his way back. He shaped himself into a new version of himself. The one who knew how cruel others could be and how merciful he always would be.

Because of this, he spent until the end of his days fighting for those who could not defend themselves, and slowly, he saw what others saw in him. He was forever High King Peter, the Magnificent, and no one could ever take that away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you for reading this story! I hope you enjoyed it!**
> 
> **I do appreciate the support for this story, and certainly, let me know what you think!**
> 
> **I have a few story ideas I am working on, and I hope to share them with you all soon. Once again, thank you to my wonderful prompt giver for this amazing story!**
> 
> **Thank you all for reading! **


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